Unshaken
by Crystal Sampson
Summary: The last thing Dean wanted to come back to was a broken little brother and even worse PTSD than he'd started the leviathan mess with. See inside for important warning info! Not my usual fair.


_Oh. I don't know what happened here. One minute I was writing something normal, then I ended up with this. What did I do?_

 **Warnings** : implied rape, non-con adult situations, brainwashing? (I have no idea how to warn for this thing actually.

 _ **Disclaimer:** Not mine. No, really. It's not. It belongs to Kripke and his posse._

* * *

Something was wrong with Sam. Dean knew this with an unshakable certainty. He didn't quite care in the wake of the anger and resentment spawned by Sam's recent betrayal, but he knew.

It was tiny things that nagged at Dean for weeks even before he had any hard evidence. A bunch of little wrongs that amounted to a deep, niggling sense of unease deep down in the pit of his stomach, but he ignored it in favor of the burning disappointment of discovering he had barely been missed in his year long absence.

The knowledge that something wasn't right ate at Dean bit by bit. He watched Sam shrug through his day, taking his favorite things with same equanimity that he faced his most hated these days. Sam was supposed to be like the excitable kid he remembered. No matter his age, his eyes would light up at the prospect of hot chocolate, getting a new book, even just staying in a hotel with an extra star. He missed the easy smile and chatter.

His Sam was a worrier and an emotional bitch. If he messed up, the kid would be so riddled with guilt he would do everything in his power to appease whoever he had hurt. His Sam had that emo brow wrinkle. Dean liked to tease him that it was his smolder, but it was really a sign that Sam was upset and thinking too damn much again. His Sam would never have given up looking for him.

The new Sam was relaxed and detached. He did not show the least bit of remorse or guilt or worry. Sure he tiptoed around the room, but in an attempt to avoid the Wrath of Dean more than out of any real sense of guilt. Dean had never felt more like spun glass than in those post purgatory days, excepting perhaps his stint after the heart attack. If it hadn't been for the Kevin debacle, Dean might have started to worry that Sam had lost his soul again.

The thing was, Dean had tried everything he could think of. They had gone through the obligatory monster checks. Sam was human. He wasn't a shape shifter or imposter of any sort Dean could name. Nope, one hundred percent human. Sam just wasn't Sam anymore. And it bothered Dean more than any other phase in the kid's life. Even happy, post-Hell Sam was less weird than this version.

Sam only turned stoic on him when some truly scary shit had gone down. It was more like him to freak, sleep in Dean's bed for a night, and move on. Dean had seen scared Sam. He'd seen grieving Sam. He'd seen soulless Sam. He'd never seen Sam just check out on him like this.

The really painful part was watching the kid try. He participated. He even made a half-hearted attempt to argue when the situation required. But he just didn't emotionally engage in any meaningful way.

The last thing Dean wanted to come back to was a broken little brother and even worse PTSD than he'd started the leviathan mess with. Dean might be worried, but he was hurt and in no way equipped to deal with yet another Sam crisis. So he stewed in his own emotional mess and worried a little more each day, even if he told himself he didn't.

Not that any of that stopped him from looking for a case. They were getting nowhere fast on the Kevin dilemma and he was feeling like he might crawl out of his skin any second if he didn't get to kill something soon.

Sam was bafflingly reluctant.

He brought up the possible ritual killings in an attempt to find something case worthy. It had everything he could have asked for. Hearts had been removed. People were dead. It was time to hunt again.

But when he looked up from his explanation, it was to find himself in the middle of a cluster of open-sided tents and Sam chewing on an apple looking unconvinced. "Where the Hell are we," he demanded. He had been so wrapped up in convincing Sam they had a case, he'd never bothered to actually think about what Sam was doing.

"Farmer's market," Sam said, enunciating each syllable slowly as if Dean were an idiot. "Organic." He seemed quite pleased with himself and Dean was tempted to punch him right then, the smug bastard. But since it was the first time Sam had acted vaguely like the pain in the ass he remembered, he refrained. Barely.

Instead, he settled for a look of disbelief. "What," Sam said, suddenly on the offensive. "I had a year off. I took the time to enjoy the good things."

"While avoiding doing what we actually do," Dean reminded him. He couldn't help himself. It was out of his mouth before he had even had time to think.

Sam turned his head away from Dean, pointedly not making eye contact, like he'd just been slapped. "Wow," he said. "Does it make you feel that much better every time you say it?"

"Look I get it," Dean said. And he did. Sort of. Only a little bit. "You took a year off to enjoy doing yoga and playing the lute or whatever, but I'm back. We're back. Which means that we walk and kill monsters at the same time. Do we ignore things like this, or are innocent people supposed to die so you can shop for produce?"

And that's the moment it happened again. Sam disengaged. He huffed, but instead of arguing, he followed Dean back to the car and climbed in without another word. Dean couldn't decide if he was being handled like a ticking bomb in case a careless remark set him off again or if it's just another way Sam was all wrong since he got back.

x

All that conversation really did was drive home more ways Sam had changed. His eating habits had gone from picky to obsessive. So much so that Dean would feel justified in saying that Sam had abandoned real food entirely by the time they were back together. Sure, he ate burgers when they stopped at proper diners, but he picked the bun off or ordered it wrapped in lettuce. Fortunately eggs and bacon still seemed safe, but their fast-food stops had become a long line of varied salads, without dressing. He had abandoned french-fries, candy bars, and potato chips, the main staples of gas station junk food. Hell, kid didn't even eat ketchup anymore. Who didn't like ketchup?

The worst sign of an impending apocalypse though, was that he had given up his little frou-frou coffee drinks. He drank it white. Just coffee and cream.

Dean had confronted him over that one. "So the fine things in life don't include twelve dollar cups of coffee anymore," he'd snapped after an early morning coffee break when they stopped in some middle of nowhere college town café. Dean had tried to buy him the mocha locca espresso crap that Sam used to drink like crazy, but it had been set aside, untouched until Sam offered it back to Dean in favor of getting himself a plain coffee. It was the last straw. Dean was trying to extend an olive branch here, and the kid wouldn't take a hint. Not that it kept Dean from downing the extra caffeine.

Sam had shrugged at his question, which only served to piss Dean off a little more.

"Seriously, dude," he said. He was fighting to keep from ripping Sam's head off. Their simple salt and burn had turned out to not be so simple, they were forced to skip town without any sleep, and it had left Dean feeling cranky. It was turning out to be a losing battle. "What's up with that? That's almost all coffee. You haven't drank it that pure since you swiped some of Dad's doctored joe that time you were seven."

"All that sugar is bad for you," Sam said, calm and collected and decidedly not meeting Dean's gaze.

Dean pulled a face. "So you have to live without any flavor whatsoever?"

Sam shrugged again. "I like it plainer now," was all he said. No snappy defensiveness. No snarky swipe at Dean's own eating habits.

And Dean let it go because he was still pissed.

He decided it was probably because of post purgatory issues that he didn't consciously notice sooner. When he got back, he avoided places with large crowds so he didn't notice that they made Sam uncomfortable.

Dean slept light at night, knife gripped under his pillow in a death grip so nothing could sneak up on him. He woke at least three times a night from any stray noise louder than Sam's breathing and usually gave up around three a.m. He didn't notice that Sam woke when he did or that his brother only laid in bed until four to give him a bit of privacy.

Dean didn't like not having something at his back after an entire year of being hunted out in the open forest of purgatory. He didn't notice that Sam stuck as close to walls as he did simply because Sam always sticks close to Dean. And if Sam always chose a seat where neither of them had their back to the door, he assumes that it's his little brother's way of being understanding.

Dean didn't trust other people, especially when he saw them moving out of the corner of his eye. He stayed so busy watching everyone else in the vicinity that he failed to notice Sam didn't make eye contact with nine out of ten people they met.

Dean didn't like being touched, not even by Sam some days. He startled easily and being trained as a hunter means that his reactions to being startled generally weren't healthy for those around him. His flirting was strictly that any day that he felt up to putting that much effort forward for another person. He hadn't had a hook up for weeks. It didn't seem odd that Sam never considered such things either because he'd been sticking close to Dean, yet giving Dean space with a restraint on the touchy feely moves he used to make.

Or maybe that was self-preservation. If Sam had punched him on the arm, he would have probably tackle the kid to the ground before either of them could blink. Never mind that Dean was still pissed at him. Sam was probably still moping over the girl.

Still, there were occasions that even Dean couldn't ignore. Like that thing at Gert's Diner back around Gainsville.

They were parked at a back booth finishing up when the waitress smiled and laid the check on the table. It was one of those places where you took your bill up to the cashier to pay at the very end. Dean rolled his eyes. This was such a classy joint. Even the cheapest diner knew enough to come collect their money rather than make them walk for it.

Sam was paying. It was his turn and Dean had left his wallet out in the car. Apparently Sam thought the folks there were nice enough. He was paying with cash instead of one of their credit cards. Dean hadn't found the service particularly impressive nor the food all that good, but Sam had strong opinions about the money situation sometimes.

Sam laid a twenty and a ten on the counter and engaged in idle chit chat for the time it took for the girl to ring in their order. He was attempting to smile, which Dean supposed was an improvement, although the smile was obviously fake.

The cashier pulled out the change, $7.86. She held it out to Sam, who froze. He stood there and stared at the money, hand half reaching for it. She pulled back a little and looked at him when he didn't take it.

"Sir? Are you all right?" She had started to glance at Dean, but he didn't have an answer either.

Sam seemed to snap out of it. He smiled wanly at her and took a step back. "Keep it," he said, and pushed his way past Dean and into the parking lot.

Dean met the girl's eye and shrugged before turning to go too. By the time he got to the car, Sam was leaning on the passenger door waiting for him. His arms were crossed and he was staring up into the cloudy grey sky.

Dean walked to the driver side and slid the key in the lock. "What was that about?"

Sam pushed off the car and turned back towards him. "What?"

Dean waved towards the diner. "That was like, a forty percent tip. The service was worth ten at best."

Sam shrugged. God, Dean was tired of that move. "She and the server probably split. It seemed fair."

"Fair for what? Putting up with your spastic ass?"

Sam frowned at him. "Whatever."

Dean yanked open his door and slid into the seat. He considered leaving his brother standing out there, but eventually reached over and unlocked the door. Sam settled himself without a word as Dean started the car.

"So are you going to tell me what happened or what?"

Sam shrugged again. "Nothing. I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about your performance as a space cadet, like money was a foreign concept to you."

"I just left the girls a tip, Dean."

Dean scowled at the road. "Fine," he said. Two could play at that game. "Whatever." He flipped on the stereo and cranked the volume so that he couldn't hear Sam, or his own thoughts. It was just him and the road. No obnoxiously freaky brothers to be found.

x

They worked a gig with Garth. It went about as badly as either of them expected, but they got the job done. Dean said things he shouldn't have. Sam fell into his new quite thing, only he had the kicked puppy act going on too.

Dean decided he would walk Garth back to his car to get some fresh air. He needed some space from the giant ball of emo moping that Sam had become. Garth stopped at a clunker just outside the motel.

Dean had one burning question that he had been dying to ask. "How come that penny didn't jack you like everyone else? Everyone at some point in their life feels like they've been screwed."

"Not me," Garth said with an easy smile. "I learned to let it all go with the help of my yogi: my Sega Genesis." He paused to consider Dean. "Now, there's something I want to say to you." Dean waited for him to continue. Garth's next words physically took him back. "Stop being an idjit! With Bobby gone, you and Sam are all each other's got. And that's not so bad."

Dean eyed Garth. Guy might not be so bad as the next Bobby. So long as he stopped saying idjit. "Garth, I –"

"What do you remember," Garth asked, cutting him off.

"About the penny?" At Garth's nod, he shrugged. "Not much. Was it bad?"

Garth whistled low and long. "You were spouting crap faster than a bull with diarrhea."

Dean braced himself. With all the stuff they'd survived, there was plenty he could have dug up. This was going to hurt. "What did I say?"

Garth shook his head. "No man, talk to Sam. You need to take it up with him."

"That bad?"

Garth's grimace was proof enough.

"Oh, come on. Sam and me, we're good. Past is in the past. All that crap."

"Yeah, well. I'm not sure all of us are convinced." Dean shrugged and turned to go, but Garth grabbed his arm.

"One thing, Dean. Why did you say Sam didn't go looking for you?"

The rage reignited in Dean. His breathing turned hard and fast and he felt his hands ball into fists, fingernails digging into his palms to keep from punching something. "He didn't, did he?" Dean's words left his mouth bitter. "I was gone, vanished for a year and he settles down. Gets himself a girl and a dog. Couldn't be bothered to look for me for five minutes."

Garth gave him an incredulous look. "You're kidding right?"

"Nope. He went native on me."

"No, Dean," Garth said. "I don't know about a girl, but he didn't stop while you were gone. At least not at first. It took him a month just to dismantle most of Sucra-Corp. I helped him when I could. I'm still finding pockets of foods with their crap in them. Had to rob a seven-eleven the other day to steal all their Twinkies and burn them. Such a waste."

Garth grimaced at the horror, but continued. "Folks are still going crazy in spots. Sam called me himself when he got into some accidentally. Then he spent at least three months tracking you. When he dropped off the grid, I assumed he was on to something. He had worn himself thin trying to figure out what had happened. I had a friend hack in and set me to his emergency contacts just in case, but I never got a call. Assumed he was just in deep."

Dean just stared at Garth, trying to take in all the information in that had just been thrown at him. "Wait, what?"

"Sam was still searching for you last time I saw him," Garth said with a shrug.

"And he just fell off the radar? No warning? No questions? Nothing?"

"Nope. Last I heard he was in Topeka. No idea where he went after that. Like I said. I assumed he was into something deep cover style."

"What about Sucra-corp? What happened there," Dean asked. He crossed his arms.

"You know, you guys vanished, but the factories were still standing, pumping out all that crap. Folks were just in these mindless zombie stupors. Sam blew up the offices where they were testing the skinny people poison, but there were other places. There were all those testing labs and corn processing plants. Scary stuff, dude."

"And Sam took them out?"

"Well, yeah," Garth said with a shrug. "What was he supposed to do? The number of folks who knew what was going on was nonexistent. But there's still all the stuff that had been shipped out with it. Fortunately, it looks like once the effects wear off they're fine. The less appealing cannibalism isn't an issue anymore. Guess they didn't want their food source eating itself."

"You said he got into it? I had some once, it felt weird and addictive, but I got over it pretty quick."

"Nah, man. Sam was laid up for days. He was out of it completely, and not in that zombie way. It was like he got a really good high off it or something. Kept going on about how he could taste light and hear angels. Wish I could get me some of that."

"Trust me, Garth. That's the last thing you need."

"Aw. You're just jealous of the Garthsomeness." He gave Dean a meaningful look. "You know what comes next." Then Garth went in for the hug. Dean patted him awkwardly and waited till he detached.

Garth got in his car, smiling as he started her up. Dean would never understand his choice in clunker. It might be nondescript, but at least Baby was a genuine car.

Garth grew somber again as he stared up at Dean from the driver's seat. It was an odd look for the hyperactive beanpole. "Talk to Sam."

Dean studied him for a minute. Garth was actually serious. "Sure, man."

Dean watched as Garth pulled out and readied himself for the next phase of his evening: prying Sam out of the motel. He stalked back to their room and beat on the door. When Sam wasn't forthcoming, he beat again, louder.

"Sam! Come on, man. Let's go!"

When his brother emerged a minute later, he was wearing this detached pissed look on his face. The frown and scowl were right, but the intensity wasn't there. It was like he knew he should be angry, and he was, but the emotional engagement just wasn't there. It was honestly the scariest look Dean had ever seen.

Sam shoved his bags in the trunk and slammed it closed. He pulled back, taking a deep breath before he spoke.

"For the record, the girl's name is Amelia. Amelia Richards. She and I lived in Kermit, Texas."

Okay. That was random. Unless… "Look man, I don't remember what I said, but I –"

"You what? Didn't mean it?" This was the most engaged Dean had seen Sam in the entire time he'd been back. "We both know you didn't need the penny to say those things."

"Come on, Sam."

"No, Dean. Own up to your crap."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"We both know how this goes. You hold on to things. You smile and say it's all forgotten, but the very next time something goes wrong, you're right there, ready to kick me with every single thing I've ever done."

"Well, Sam. You don't exactly make it easy to forget, now do you? Constantly tiptoeing around and –"

"And what," Sam said. He flung an arm out, gesturing wildly. "Existing? Because I'm trying here. Constantly. I make mistakes. You act like I'm the only one who's made one. And you have every right to be angry, but enough is enough. It's never going to be good enough for you, is it? I can work myself to the bone to earn your forgiveness and it'll never be enough. You'll just keep on nursing the same shit. But you? You get a free pass for everything you've ever done. I'm trying to be patient. I'm trying to understand."

"So now it's my fault?"

"Don't put words in my mouth."

"Oh, no. I think we're going there. What's got your panties twisted this time? Is it Benny? Is that what this is about?"

"God, Dean. Of course you would think…. For once in your life can you accept that I'm serious. This isn't some passive aggressive attack on your life decisions. This right here is about you and me."

"And so the fact that I'm friends with a vampire plays no part in this?" Dean gestured wildly between them. "That doesn't bother you at all?"

"Yes! Dammit," he said, slamming his hand down on the roof of the car. "Of course it does. You know as well as I do how that's going to end. But that's –"

"Beside the point? Cause let me tell you Sam, Benny wouldn't even be in the picture if my own brother had been doing his job!"

Sam stiffened. "Right. I forgot." He turned away from Dean. "Well, I'll just go then. You can team up with your real brother and I'll be out of the way. It's what you wanted, right? Hell, you've already started hunting with him."

Dean stared at Sam's back. "What the fuck? Where the fuck did that come from?"

Sam whirled on him and Dean was extremely glad that the Impala was between them. When Sam spoke again, his voice was low and dangerous. It sent a thrill down Dean's spine. "Oh, I don't know. Seems pretty clear to me."

"Well, I must have missed that memo."

Sam closed his eyes. Dean could see the strain from him reigning himself in. "I came, Dean. You called and I came. That doesn't absolve me. I made a mistake and I have to take those consequences, but you've got to move on. Move on or I will."

And looking at him, illuminated by purple neon light from the motel sign, Dean knew he meant it. He had been pushed one step too far and if Dean wasn't careful, he was going to completely break what was left between them. Not that there was much hope to reclaim whatever shredded pieces of their relationship were still there.

And suddenly he remembered all the details Garth had filled in. How Sam had fought against Sucra-corp. How he had been searching for Dean, at least for a couple of months. How he had dropped off the radar without any warning at all. Tonight was not the time to jump into that. He would have to approach a much calmer Sam before they could have that discussion. He felt some of the fight leave him, knowing there was something more going on here.

"Okay."

Sam blinked up at him, obviously surprised by his calm tone. "What?"

"I said okay. I'll try. You and me, we're not okay. I don't know how long it's going to take to fix what we have, but I'll try."

Sam relaxed, sagged at the shoulders. Before he could say anything, Dean spoke again. "But you should know, Sam. I won't apologize for doing what I had to. You don't have to like it or be okay with it, but I don't regret my actions."

Sam looked him over then gave a tight nod. "Fine, but _you_ should know that if it comes down to it and Benny steps out of line, even by an inch, I might just be the hunter who has to ice him."

"I guess we'll cross that bridge if we come to it."

It was a sour response and they could both feel it sitting heavy between them. They just stared each other down for a minute before Sam nodded again. Dean opened his door, allowing the squeak of the hinges to whine just a bit extra into the heavy silence.

"Good. Then come on. Let's get out of here before someone calls the cops on us."

Sam took several short, measured steps and sank into the Impala. Dean started the engine and pulled out of the parking spot. Neither said a word. Somewhere between the motel and the state line, Sam fell asleep. When Dean glanced over at him, he noticed that little line between his eyes that meant Sam would soon be in the throes of a nightmare.

That was another thing that had changed. Sam no longer had nightmares like he had before. Oh, the nightmares themselves were still there, but Sam didn't cry out or thrash like he used to. He would curl up into a tight ball and mouth silently. It almost looked like he was muttering, but the only sound he made was a little keening noise that sometimes escaped him. Dean let him sleep for now. The kid had worse circles than he did and needed the rest. Dean needed time to think. When the nightmare got bad, Dean flung a hand at Sam shoulder. He started awake, blinked blearily at Dean, then dropped back off to sleep.

Dean pulled off the road a few hours later. He was exhausted and while he didn't figure he'd get much sleep. He also didn't want to wreck the car. He found an overgrown access road to something and pulled in far enough to be missed from the road. He drooped down in his seat and let himself slide into sleep.

When he woke, the sun was warm on his face and Sam was leaning on the hood of the car. It was a wonder he had managed to get out without waking Dean. Dean had been such a light sleeper lately.

Sam frowned and spit and for the first time Dean noticed he was eating a pear. Where the fuck did he stash a pear in the car? He had his pen knife out and was absently carving slices from the fruit. He was staring out towards an open expanse of field that had grown up into a meadow. Whoever owned the field was obviously not farming it this season.

Dean opened his door and levered himself out of the car. Sam didn't blink, just kept staring out across the way. Dean took up a position next to him. They were silent for a long minute. Dean was waiting to see what Sam would say, but Sam was content to continue staring. That was fine. Dean liked silence as well as the next guy.

When Dean's stomach grumbled, Sam carved off a piece of pear and held it out to him. Dean offered a grunt of thanks and popped the slice into his mouth. It was sweet and juicy. Dean was never much of a fruit person, and it certainly wasn't a preferred breakfast food, but he could appreciate the nice, simple cleanness of the crunchy flesh.

Sam alternated between them, first a slice for him, then one for Dean. They finished the pear before either one spoke. As Sam considered the fruit core, Dean studied Sam. The man was thin. He had lost weight. It gave him a sort of gaunt appearance. He was looking a little pale and there were still dark smudges under his eyes.

"Did you get any sleep at all last night?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged then tossed the core into the tall grasses.

"You should have woken me up. We could have gone on to a motel."

Sam shrugged again. "You were finally sleeping."

It sounded funny, as though Dean ought to have been sleeping all along. As if he should have been watching the road through the backs of his eyelids while he was driving, but Dean got the message. It was the first time since his return that he had slept without waking every half hour to check his surroundings, and he had to admit he felt better for it.

"Doesn't mean you couldn't have got some rest too."

"I'm fine Dean, just a little tired."

Dean didn't say anything. He didn't want to fight over something so stupid. They lapsed back into silence. Dean could hear the birds in the distance, calling to each other.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Sam glanced at him from the corner of his eye, but didn't turn to look at him properly. Had Sam looked Dean in the eye since he'd been back? He couldn't remember now.

"Tell you what?" Sam wanted to know.

"That you did look for me."

Sam leaned back on his elbows and stared up into the sky. "Because I didn't."

"I know, Sam. Garth told me last night that you spent months trying to track me down before you dropped off the grid."

Sam heaved a sigh. "Garth has a big mouth." Dean noticed Sam didn't deny anything.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Sam shrugged. Seriously, Dean was going to weight his shoulders so he couldn't do that anymore.

"Sammy…"

"It didn't make a difference in the end did it? I stopped and you stayed in purgatory and I ended up in Texas. It's not like a couple of months meant much in the scheme of things. Garth should have kept his mouth shut."

"Sam, what happened in Texas?"

Sam stiffened. "What do you mean?"

"What happened to make you go radio silent for eight months?"

"I told you. I ran over a dog and took it to an emergency clinic. I met Amelia and we ended up together. I decided to give normal a try."

Sam had 'ended up' with Amelia? For someone he left everything behind for, he sure didn't sound like he was in love with her. "And?"

"And what, Dean? That's what happened."

"What was she like?"

"What does it matter? I'm here now."

"I'm just curious. You don't just settle down with any girl."

Sam pushed off from the hood and went to stand a few feet down the road. Dean could see the tense set of his shoulders and the way he was hunched down. Dean thought Sam might refuse to answer, but finally he spoke.

"She was nice. Soft. She was sort of tan, but not so much that you'd think she'd been in Texas long. She had dark curly hair and brown eyes. Petite. Square teeth. Cute."

Wow. Real verbose there Sammy. I just feel like I've known her all my life. There was something not right about this story. "But what was she _like_?"

Sam shrugged again. "She was nice. She laughed a lot. She had lost her husband in Afghanistan nine months back."

"You said she worked at the animal clinic?"

"Yeah. She's a vet. She shamed me into keeping Riot." This last was offered in an effort to appease big brother. "He grew on me though. God, I miss him. He was like a big kid. Every time I came home he was just so happy to see me and he went everywhere with me. He was too curious for his own good and ate three times his weight. Kinda reminded me of you."

"Ha. Ha." Sounded like Sam liked the dog better than the girlfriend. "Why did you stay if you didn't like her all that much?"

Sam froze. Dean shoved off from the car too, coming to stand beside Sam to get a better look at him. Sam wore a tight, faraway look on his face. If anything, it looked like he might be about to cry. Dean reached out, not sure what he was going to do. He was very confused right now.

"Sam?"

Sam jerked away from him and shrugged. "Seemed like the best option at the time. What's it matter? The end result was the same."

Beneath the tight coil of betrayal that comment still managed to elicit, Dean saw the deflection for what it was.

Dean wasn't sure if it was better knowing he had been forgotten from the start or that he had been given up on. But the more Sam didn't talk about, the more Dean was sure something had happened in his absence.

Finally, he said, "We could go visit if you want. Make sure she's okay. Check in on the mutt."

But Sam shook his head, just once, so hard his hair whipped around. If he kept this up, he was going to look less like a scraggledy lion and more like a Liberaci wannabe.

"No. I left. That's the end of it. She deserves the chance to move on. We should focus on finding Kevin."

"We got no clue where Kevin is. We won't find him until he decides he wants to be found. Don't you think she deserves an explanation?"

Sam didn't answer him. He just turned back towards the car. "Let's just find the next case and move on." Dean followed Sam back to the Impala and watched as he settled in the seat. There was a worn quality to him. He sat slightly slumped, like he couldn't quite remember how to sit up straight and there were tiny lines around his eyes and mouth from the tension. Dean climbed in and after thumbing through his cassette collection, he started some music and pulled back out onto the highway. It was going to take some time to work this one out.

x

But then Cas was thrust back into their life and they had Kevin to deal with, and Sam's issues were forced into the backseat for the time being. At least until the incident.

Dean was never sure what caused the incident. It felt as though he blinked and events had spiraled so far out of control he didn't know up from down anymore. One minute they were fine. It was a quiet morning and they were doing research at the motel. Sam was puttering around, gathering up the laundry to take to the laundromat while Dean was Googling funny deaths in the area and Cas was watching cartoons. They were fine. Sam was even doing that weird half hum he did while cleaning sometimes. Cas kept glancing at Sam as though he were trying to figure out exactly what he was doing.

"It's called laundry, Cas," Dean said the next time he caught the angel staring. "Here on the mortal plane, clothes get dirty and we have to take them to get them washed. Otherwise Sasquatch there gets bitchy."

"I'm not the one who complains about the smell," Sam reminded him.

"Whatever. I seem to recall someone moaning because their shorts were itchy."

"Not my fault you spent all the quarters on candy and soda instead of laundry. It wasn't like I could go to a pool hall and hustle. I was six."

Dean just rolled his eyes and pointed at the pile of clothes. "Clean, bitch. We don't have all day for this."

"Bite me."

Dean went back to his Googling and Sam went back to picking up strewn clothes and sorting them. Well, dividing them into things with blood stains and things without bloodstains at any rate.

Cas tilted his head and observed the interaction. Finally he asked, "Is it customary to accompany your cleaning rituals with atonal music?"

Dean snorted and Sam turned, confused.

"You've been doing the humming thing again, Snow White." To Cas he said, "Just chuck something at him if it bothers you. That'll shut him up."

Sam looked like he might blush, but he waved the finger at Dean and moved into the bathroom.

Dean was still chortling when he heard a ripping noise followed by the thunk of flesh meeting porcelain.

Dean was on his feet and flying to the bathroom. He found Sam curled into a huddled mass on the floor, shaking. He had caught his temple on the side of the sink and a gash there was leaking blood. The shower curtain lay crumpled in the floor, one edge clenched in Sam's fist. Sam had huddled as tightly against the tub as he could. He was rocking slightly and Dean could hear him muttering from his place by the door. Aside from the gash, he seemed fine, at least physically.

Between the posture and the muttering, it reminded him of Sam's hallucinations way back when. But why now?

"Sam? What happened?" Dean was keeping his distance. If it was a hallucination, Sam wouldn't appreciate being rushed at. He had all sorts of crazy floating around in his head that could be drug back up and he didn't want to be seen as a threat.

Sam didn't acknowledge Dean at all besides a small flinch at the question. Dean felt Cas come up behind him and glanced over his shoulder. The angel was standing tight inside Dean's personal space and had he been able to, would have likely pushed his way into the bathroom. Dean could only handle one crisis at a time today. He needed Cas to take a walk.

"Sam is hurt," Cas said. The concern in his voice was surprisingly gentle. Dean turned to look at him fully while still keeping his bulk in the doorway. Honestly, that little knock to the head was the least of Dean's worries. It wasn't even bleeding that bad for where it was and it didn't look big enough to have caused a concussion. He'd get Sam coherent and then worry about bandaging him up.

"I know Cas," Dean said. He tried to modulate his voice to an even tone, aware that if Sam really was having some sort of psychotic break, he'd respond to Dean's tone before he understood what was being said. Dean felt the frustration at even knowing that fact. Couldn't they just get a break? "He'll be fine. It's barely a scratch and he's had much worse. Just give us a second in here."

Cas was reluctant to move.

"Look man, I can handle Sam. Go take a walk or do some research. He'll be fine. He just needs a minute to calm down." The 'I hope' went unspoken. Cas cast one more look over Dean's shoulder and went back to his place at the rickety table Dean had been working at. Instead of picking up a book, he stared intently at Dean who huffed and turned back to his brother.

Sam had dropped his head to his knees and was hugging himself, the shower curtain pulled around his legs like a blanket he'd gotten tangled in. Dean took a couple of steps into the room and knelt down just within reach in front of his brother.

Keeping his tone light, Dean said, "Hey there Sam. It's okay. You're fine. You're safe." Sam didn't react at all. "Come on, man. Look at me so I know you're okay." Dean shuffled a little closer so that he could lay a hand on Sam's knee.

Sam's reaction was quick and violent. He jerked away from the touch and tried to skitter between the tub and the toilet, but there was too much of Sam and not near enough room. In the end he settled for pushing himself as far back as he could get. Dean raised his hands in front of him.

"Okay. No touching. Got it. You got to help me here, though. What's going on in that big geek brain of yours Sammy?"

Sam just kept muttering. Dean leaned in closer to hear better.

"No please don't sorry so sorry please only an accident sorry please please please"

Dean rocked back. "What's an accident Sam?"

Sam finally seemed to hear him, the tempo of his muttering changed and grew a little louder. "Didn't mean it Sorry An accident Didn't mean it Sorry Sorry"

"What was an accident?"

Sam cringed in on himself. "Please please I'll be good I'll fix it Please don't Only an accident Sorry"

Dean glanced around. Aside from the shower curtain, nothing seemed broken or out of place. In fact the room looked unusually tidy for the amount of time they'd been there. He couldn't see anything for Sam to be worried over, much less panicking. There must have been something to set him off, but Dean sure didn't see anything that could have done it.

"Sammy…"

"No! Please! Please! I'll be good I promise. Please don't!"

"Sam!" Dean didn't mean to bark it quite so harshly, but this was getting ridiculous. There was literally nothing to have caused this episode. Instead he fell back into old habits, snapping out orders as a last resort to get Sam to listen to him. The tone seemed to work. Sam stopped muttering and stopped rocking. Trembles still ran along his arms, but he seemed to still at the command.

"Listen to me. You are in the motel. There's nothing here."

Sam didn't move. It was like he was waiting for something.

"Sam, look at me."

Sam's head rose and hazel met green for the first time in a long while. Dean stayed kneeling in the floor. "You are safe. Do you understand?"

Sam's gaze flickered around the room but came back to rest on Dean's face. There was a tiny blink followed by a short, tight nod.

"Do you know who I am?"

Sam stared at him for another minute. He opened his mouth, but ended up swallowing. Finally, he seemed capable of talking. "Dean. You're Dean."

Dean relaxed a bit. "Good. Remember where you are?"

The answer was quicker. "Motel?"

"Mhmm. Good Sam. Think you can get up off the floor and let me look at that cut?"

Sam's hand went to his head. He studied the blood on his fingers abstractly. He looked back at Dean and nodded.

"Okay then." Dean stood and offered his hand. "Count of three. One, two, three…." It took the both of them to get Sam standing, but he seemed to be as coordinately functional as Dean had expected. Dean flipped the toilet lid closed and motioned for Sam to sit. Sam flinched at the gesture and seemed keen to keep touching to a minimum, but otherwise seemed to be back with Dean.

Dean didn't say a word as he rinsed the cut out and taped down a bandage. It was long, but pretty shallow. It would heal up in a day or two. No stitches needed, although Sam was already forming a nice, big bruise along his cheek where he had smashed into something.

"Anything else hurt?"

Sam shook his head. His head was hung, hair falling forward and hiding his face. Kid was obviously exhausted, but Dean needed some answers.

"What happened, Sam?"

Sam shrugged. "Nothing. I don't know."

Dean took a deep breath before he could say something he'd regret. "Not nothing, Sam. You were in full on panic mode. You're not having hallucinations again, are you? Not more left overs from Lucifer?"

Sam shook his head. "No. No more of that."

"Are you sure? Because that's what it looked like."

"No. I haven't had any of that since Cas…"

"Okay, then what?"

"Please, Dean. Don't." His gaze was fixed firmly on Dean's shoes. The words were the same as before and the pleading tone had crept back in, but this time Dean knew what Sam was asking.

"Sam…" Dean said with a warning.

"I can't, Dean. Really I can't."

"Can't as in don't want to, or can't as in someone's got some mojo on you?"

"Yes…no…I don't know Dean. Please." Please don't make me do this.

"Come on, Sam. What's going on? You've been weird since I got back. Now this. I'll ask one more time. What happened?"

Sam seemed to crumple. He sagged on the toilet and caught himself by the elbows on his knees. Dean crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.

"Look, I'm sorry. I just panicked is all."

"Yeah, Sammy. I got that part. What about?"

"It was just, there was…" he waved a hand vaguely at the bathroom sink before continuing. "And I don't know, but it felt like I was back _there_. And I panicked."

Dean stood up straighter. "Back in Hell?" It could have been a flashback, although what could have set it off today of all days was beyond Dean. Even he still had them from time to time, usually around dogs though. Maybe Sam –

"No," Sam said. "In Texas."

Dean blinked. "What?"

Sam didn't respond.

"Did you say in Texas?"

Sam nodded.

"I thought you hooked up with that Amelia chick in Texas."

Dean didn't miss the hesitation before Sam nodded again.

"Did she… Sam, did she hurt you?"

Sam wouldn't meet his eye. He was absorbed in his study of the green linoleum covering the floor.

"Sam?"

Sam flinched. "It was my fault. I deserved it."

Dean knelt down in front of Sam again. If she laid a finger on Sam, she was dead meat walking. He grabbed Sam's chin, ignoring the way Sam jerked away from the touch, and tilted his face up so that they were eye to eye. "Did. She. Hurt. You."

Sam's eyes were wide and frightened. "It's not what you think."

Dean took a breath and prayed silently for patience. "And what do I think?"

"You think she did something wrong. It's not wrong if I agreed to it. If it was consensual. It's only against the law if I said no."

Dean felt himself stiffen. His hand fell from Sammy's chin. No. Nonononono. He stood and faced the wall. His chest had tightened and he felt like all the air had rushed out of the room. He scrubbed his hands over his face, hoping he had misunderstood. Not Sam. Not here. Hell was one thing. You expected it in Hell. Not here.

When he felt like he face Sam without breaking something, he turned back around. Sam had slumped down and was staring at the floor again. It took every bit of strength Dean possessed for him to ask, "Sammy, did she … did she rape you?" The words were broken and half whispered.

Sam flinched, but his answer was firm. "I never said no."

Dean felt the world tilt around him. "Sam." His voice broke, but Dean didn't care. He very carefully laid a hand on Sam's knee. Sam had turned away.

"I'm sorry Dean," Sam said in a rush. "I know it was wrong. I should have never let things get so out of hand. I should have been out looking for you."

"Sam." Sam cringed away from him, but Dean held firm. "Sam, please look at me."

Sam raised his head to meet Dean's eye for a second, but settled somewhere around his lips. "This is very important. Did you want whatever it was that happened between you? Whatever she did, was it what you wanted too?"

"I never said no."

"But did you ever say yes?"

Sam glanced up. "The first time. The first time, I wanted it. She seemed nice and I was staying in one place because of the dog and we just seemed to click."

"And after? The next time? Or the time after that?"

Sam looked away and that was all the answer Dean needed.

"I had already let her…." Sam sounded so small and lost in those few words.

"Listen to me, Sam" Dean suddenly felt as out of his depths as he had when Sam was thirteen and going on his first date. It had fallen to Dean to give him the talk and both brothers had walked away scarred for life. Only then, it had been about telling Sam to stop if the girl said no. It never occurred to him to address the other way around. "One yes doesn't give anyone free reign. It has to be consensual every time. It stops being okay the moment you aren't comfortable with it. Not saying no isn't the same thing as saying yes."

"But," Sam whispered. "I let her do…everything she did. I didn't stop her. It's my fault everything got so out of hand."

"No. Just because you didn't feel like you could fight back, doesn't mean you deserved what happened to you."

"But she was tiny," Sam said wrapping his arms around himself. "I could have overpowered her. Hell, Dean. I could have killed her."

"And my guess is she knew that and there's more to this story. I always thought it was odd you would settle down, no questions asked. What did she have on you?"

"That's just it. Nothing. I just never felt like I was in control with her. It's like I knew what I wanted to do, but I could only ever do what she wanted. And in some weird way I needed her. I depended on her, even before things turned weird."

"Weird how?" Dean asked sharply.

Sam took a deep shuddering breath. "She came home one day and asked me to come down to the basement. There were… She had this… She made me –" Sam broke off and the trembling was back. Then he shook his head. "I can't, Dean. I really can't."

"It's okay Sammy. You don't have to tell me now. It's fine. I know the important bit. We can figure the rest out later."

"Dean." Sam was starting to cry and Dean felt that same tug that he always had. It was a tug towards Sam. It was a need to fix whatever was hurting his brother.

Dean scootched close and pulled Sam into a hug. Sam cried. Tucked up against Dean's neck, he shed huge, silent tears. Dean let him. He just held onto his brother until his breathing evened out and the hitch disappeared. If a few of the tears Dean was wearing now weren't Sam's, no one had to know.

Finally, Sam grew still and Dean knew he was spent. He patted the kid on the back and pulled away a bit. Sam frowned, but stayed resolutely buried in Dean's shoulder. "Hey, kiddo. Think we could move this to the bed? You're about asleep as it is and we'll both regret it if you sleep here."

Sam sighed, catching slightly on the inhale, but he nodded into Dean's collar. Dean patted his back, then helped him stand. With one arm supporting Sam's frame they stumbled together into the main area of the motel room. A brief glance told Dean that Cas had vanished. He spied a note on the table and nodded to himself. Deal with Sam first, then figure out where Cas went.

He guided Sam to the closest bed and tucked him in. Sam kept a hand fisted in Dean's shirt the whole time, just like when he was three. When Sam was safely tucked in, Dean moved to rise, but Sam tightened his grip.

"Stay?" He asked. "Please?"

"Okay."

Dean slid down onto the bed beside Sam. He gathered his kid brother up to him and closed his eyes. No reason they couldn't both get some rest. He didn't wake until he heard Cas riffling through papers, the only sign that he had been gone a greasy paper bag on the table.

Dean sat up carefully so as not to dislodge the Sam sized lump propped on his chest. Cas turned to look at him as he moved.

"Hey Cas," Dean said quietly. Sam was sleeping soundly for the first time in months. He needed all the rest he could get.

"Dean," Castiel said with a nod. "Is Sam better?"

Dean looked down at his brother drooling into his shirt. Would Sam ever qualify as better? He'd lived through something that even in all the evils of Hell Dean had endured, had never really been on the table. He'd been violated, even sexually, but that had never been his purpose in Hell. He was to be trained under Alistair. That generally meant physical blows over anything else, and everything had been blatant and honest. No one tried to convince him it wasn't rape. No one said it was what he wanted. That was the whole point down there. The fact that Dean didn't want it and the demons could do it anyway was what made it fun for them. Sam had been kept for months doing who knew what and having his mind twisted against him. It would take time.

At the same time, he wasn't a catatonic mess on the bathroom floor anymore and that was a relative improvement.

"Yeah, Cas," Dean finally said. "Sam's doing better."

Cas nodded. "And you? How are you?"

Dean ran his hand over his face. "How much did you hear?"

"Enough to know it was a family matter."

Dean gave a clipped nod. "It's for Sam to tell you the details if he wants, but that bitch is dead."

Cas cocked his head to the side. "Who?"

"That Amelia chick. She hurt Sam, Cas. She hurt him and I'm not sure I can make this better."

"You have always been what Sam needed most. That is not likely to change now."

"I know. But this is different than all the stuff we've dealt with before."

Cas leaned back in his chair. "Sam survived his memories of Hell because of you. I very much doubt there is anything you can't help him with."

Dean snorted. "Thanks, man."

"You are welcome. You did not answer my question, though. How are you?"

"I'm not the important one here right now."

"Of course you are important," Cas sounded almost indignant. "You are Dean Winchester, half of a whole. You are as important as Sam."

"No, Cas. That's not what I meant. I meant Sam is the one who needs emotional support right now. He lived it. I can deal with my own shit later."

"You recently returned from purgatory, where you were subjected to prolonged violence and stress. Even without this latest revelation, you are due some 'emotional support' as well. Just because Sam needs you, does not mean you should ignore your own needs. And such news would be very distressful for anyone as close to Sam as you are."

Distressing. Yeah. That's what Dean would call this clusterfuck they were in. Dean sighed. "I'm worried Cas. I'm worried about the state Sam is in. There's not much that could render Einstein here speechless. He's much more the talk your feelings out type. It's old news now, and nothing can really set it right. And I'm livid that anyone dared to lay a hand on him."

"And you're angry at yourself that you weren't there to stop it."

Dean had to work to get his jaw open.

"That is nonsensical. You could not predict that someone would hurt Sam in this way. You could not predict the end results of killing Dick Roman. And you made your best effort to escape purgatory. Given all of this, there is no reason to blame yourself."

Dean hated when Cas went all logical, because technically he was right, but Dean couldn't help feeling the failure in the pit of his stomach. He had been gone and Sammy had been hurt.

Dean was trying to formulate a response to that when Sam's head shifted, burrowing in closer to his chest. "He's right you know," was the slightly muffled assertion from somewhere around his heart.

"How long have you been awake, dude?"

"Not long. Just enough to hear you pour your heart out like a girl."

Dean growled. "Bitch."

"Cas is right. It's not your fault. You're here now. That's what's important."

"Oh, Samantha. I didn't know you cared."

"Shut up jerk. All I'm saying is that I'm glad you're here. Stop blaming yourself for something that's not your fault."

"But it is my fault if you felt you couldn't tell me."

Sam drew back. "I didn't want you to be disgusted with me. Angry was better than disgusted."

"Why would I have been disgusted with you?"

"Because I did disgusting things." Dean had to close his eyes. He knew there were worse revelations to come and he was dreading them. But this was not Sam's fault as far as he could tell.

"No, Sam," he said. "Things were done to you. It wasn't your fault."

"Why are you so quick to absolve me when you don't even know what all happened?"

"Because I know you. And I know what sort of person you are. We might be screwed up more than average people, but you don't intentionally hurt others and your code of morals is a pain in my ass more often than I like to admit. If you didn't hurt anyone and it was out of your control, how could it possibly be your fault?"

"Sam," Cas said, leaning forward. "I do not know the extent of your treatment, but I do know there are all kinds of evil that walk the earth. She told you only what she needed in order to control you. Any truth she spoke was only to make you more willing to believe her lies."

Sam turned to look at Cas with big round eyes. Dean wondered if Cas had ever been the recipient of such a look. Judging by the shade of red he was turning, Dean would guess not. He had forgotten the power of the Sammy eyes. There was just something so innocent and trusting in that look. Dean hadn't seen any version of it in nearly a decade. It's how Sam used to look at him when they were kids and Dean had done something particularly awe inducing from the view of a six year old. But then, anything from rescuing a cat from a tree to sneaking little brother the extra cookie might warrant the Sam look.

To save Cas, Dean snickered. "See, even the angel says it's not your fault. Can't get much more reliable than that."

"I hardly think I'm representative of Heaven at this point."

"Not my problem. You're an angel. You said Sam is good. Therefore Sam is good."

Sam pushed up from the bed to sit up properly. "Is that your logic for watching porn too?" Sam asked. "It's fine because an angel of the Lord watched it? 'Cause I got to hand it to you. That's pretty sound reasoning."

"Don't forget it." Dean said over Cas's protests.

Sam winked at Cas. "Thanks, Cas." Sam laid his head on Dean's shoulder. It was all Dean needed to know that Sam needed and wanted Dean close by and that no matter what they said, they had a long road in front of them. Dean was startled to find that he really didn't mind the contact. He felt like he should still be mad at Sam, for at least not telling him, but there would be time for that after that bitch paid.

"You are welcome, Sam." He turned back to his book, but sat up with a soft "Oh!" He held up the paper bag. "I brought hamburgers. I am told food is an acceptable form of comfort and I find these particularly good."

"Dude, why didn't you mention this sooner?" Dean wasn't one to pass up food at any time of day. He motioned for Cas to hand them over.

"Is this good?" Cas wanted to know.

"Food always makes Dean happy," Sam said. He rolled his eyes at his brother's antics. "But yeah, it's good Cas. I'm starving. Thanks, man."

Cas smiled at them and brought the bag over. For all his enthusiasm, Dean hadn't moved from his spot next to Sam. Cas found a perch at the foot of the bed and handed over the bag to Dean, who promptly began rummaging through the contents. He emerged with a wrapped burger that had been marked as plain. This he thrust at Sam. A moment later he had begun stuffing his own face with one that looked like it might have everything but the kitchen sink on it. He held the bag out to Cas to take the remaining burger. Cas pulled it out, carefully unwrapped it and began eating his own food.

Sam, meanwhile had plucked the burger from its bun and was holding it by a giant leaf of lettuce. Dean scowled.

"Ood, iee oo ahays oo ad?"

Sam stared at Dean for a minute then shook his head. "Swallow, Dean." When Dean had, he tried again. "Why do you always do that, man? It's a waste of a perfectly good bun."

Sam picked up the bun, considered it, then waved it towards Dean. "You can have it if you want. It's got plenty of burger juice on it."

Dean eyed it suspiciously. "Just burger juice?"

"Yes, Dean. You've been sitting here the entire time. When would I have had the chance to do something to it? I didn't even know I was going to offer it to you."

Dean nodded and grabbed the bun. He sniffed it, and not finding anything suspicious, took a tentative bite. It was better with meat on it, but Sam was right. It was sort of soaked in burger juice and was delicious. Dean gestured at Sam, bun still gripped in his hand.

"Don't change the subject. What's with you and buns?"

"Just leave it?"

Dean smirked. When Sam said his fuck off as a question it meant Dean was onto something. "Come on, Sam. Spill. Why do you hate bread products?"

"Bread products?"

"Yes bread products. I'm older. I can say bread products if I want. Why don't you like them?"

"They're made with corn syrup," Sam said, staring at his lap. "You can't get store bought bread without it."

"Sooo? I thought the leviathan's evil plan ended with Dick."

"Nope. There was still a lot of it floating around. Things already in grocery stores. And the plants were still being run by mindless human labor…"

"Right, Garth mentioned you went after those." Sam nodded. "Still not seeing the big picture here. Folks seem fine now."

"Not long after we blew up the last factory, I got dosed by mistake."

"Yeah, Garth said something about that too, but was pretty light on the details."

"It was the bread actually. I stopped in a bakery because I figured it was all made in store, but turns out their muffins were from a mix. I had a bad reaction to it. You remember how you were. Anxious, argumentative, and all around a pain in the ass? You were jonesing for your next fix within hours."

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, I remember. It was addictive, but once I got it out of my system, I was fine."

"I can't figure out if it's because of their modifications, or if it's still some bizarre effect of having drank the demon blood, or if I just got genetically lucky to have a reaction. Maybe they had done something to target us specifically. We've been through enough that it wouldn't be hard to pick out something, but it sent me flying. I was so spaced out, I swear I can still remember hearing angels talking. Not real angels, obviously. But that's what my brain cooked up."

"You got high off of corn syrup?" That was impressive even for them.

"Yeah. It sucked. Anyway, after that I was super sensitive to it. Even the smallest whiff of it and I was having heavy duty echoes. I just try to avoid it all together. I figured I'd give it another year, then try it again and see if it was safe, but I'm not even going to think about it when there are still pockets of corn syrup zombies wandering around out there."

Dean snorted. "You're such a freak."

Sam grinned and took a bite of his burger.

x

Later that night, Dean stopped Cas and motioned to the motel door. They stepped outside before Dean said, "I have a favor to ask."

Cas looked at him with his head cocked to the side, studying him. Dean tried not to rush him, but it was important that this be done quickly. "What do you need?"

Dean glanced through the half open curtain to where Sam was sleeping again. "I need you to watch Sam for a while. It'll be a day, tops. I just don't want to leave him alone."

Cas narrowed his eyes. "Where will you be?"

"I got to take a little trip. Will you do it?"

"Are you planning to go to Kermit?"

"I've got to, Cas. That bitch hurt my brother. No one does that and walks away from it. But Sam can't come. We both know that would be bad for him and he shouldn't have to."

"Does Sam know you are going?"

"No, and he won't. Just tell him I got a call and went to meet up with another hunter a few counties over. A quick thing and that I'll be back tomorrow."

"I am not very skilled at deceiving," Cas said reluctantly.

"Cas, I don't care what you tell him, or don't tell him. Just keep him here and let me do this. I'll be back before you know it." Dean shouldered his duffle. "Doors and windows are salted. The room is as everything proofed as we can make it. You'll be fine."

"I am not worried about our safety. I am worried about the emotional cost for both of you."

"We'll be better after this. Please?"

Cas regarded him for a long minute before he nodded. "I will watch over Sam, but be careful. This woman sounds dangerous."

"She'll know what danger is when we're through." Dean threw his duffle in the trunk of the car and climbed into the driver's seat. "I'll call you when I'm headed back."

Cas nodded. When Dean's car was no longer visible from the parking lot, he turned and went back into the motel room. He let the door latch shut behind him and took a step into the room when he heard the shifting of loose fabric.

"He's gone after her, hasn't he?"

"Yes," Cas said.

Sam was sitting up in bed, staring at the door Castiel had just entered through. "He'll kill her if he finds her."

"Likely."

Sam heaved a sigh and stood up. "Guess that means I've got to go after him."

"Dean asked me to keep you here."

"I'm sure he did," Sam said as he started to gather his things. "But I'm not the one being an idiot. The last thing he needs is more human blood on his hands. I ought to have gone to the police a long time ago instead of letting it fester."

Sam rose and made his way to the bathroom. "Do you think you can zap us there, if I know where we're going?"

"I should have sufficient strength to accomplish such a journey. Do you think it wise?"

"Dean's not the only one who watches out for his brother. It might make Dean feel better, but killing someone never got us very far without serious consequences."

"And are you strong enough for what this will mean?"

Sam came back out into the room, eyes hard. "Cas, I'd do anything for Dean. I mean anything. I'll kill her myself if that's what it comes to, but hopefully we won't even see her."

Cas nodded and moved to stand where Sam was. "Where are we going?"

Sam glanced at his watch. "It's almost 10:00. As long as her schedule hasn't changed, she should be at home tonight, probably already in bed. We'll go there and wait for Dean in front of the house. 430 Heather Crescent."

"Are you sure this is wise?"

"It'll be find Cas. Not like we have a lot of options."

"Brace yourself." Sam closed his eyes. When he opened them, it was to see a manicured green lawn and a white, two story house that he had tried very hard to forget. He took a deep breath, then turned away and sat on the curb by the mailbox. He would be clearly visible from the street, but the fence would hide him from view of the house.

"Thanks."

Cas settled in beside him to wait.

x

Dean tried to relax into the seat as he drove. He was tense. His hands ached from gripping the steering wheel so tightly and his shoulders had knots sitting between them. He knew what he had to do.

He cranked the stereo up and blasted Zeppelin as the highway disappeared behind him. He'd start with the vet and go from there. There was only one in Kermit and he found it easily enough. When he pulled in, he took a few calming breaths. He had to be smart about this. He couldn't get arrested because he went in with half a plan.

He fixed a cocky grin in place and got out of the car. He swaggered into the reception area and leaned up onto the counter, giving the receptionist an appreciative look. If circumstances had been different, he might even have been interested in doing more than looking.

"Hi there," he paused to look at her name tag. "Roberta."

She just watched him warily. "May I help you, sir?"

"Yeah, I'm looking for Amelia. Shorter girl, dark curly hair, brown eyes. She's been looking after my brother's dog and I'm here to pick him up." He flashed her a smile.

"Amelia's not on duty tonight. You'll have to come back tomorrow."

Dean let the grin drop a little. Easy does it. "Really? She said she'd be here." Dean tried to look disappointed. Sam wasn't the only one who could work the puppy dog eyes. "See, I'm only in town for a short time. I leave tomorrow morning. You don't happen to have a phone number or an address I could reach her at, do you?"

The receptionist narrowed her eyes at him. "I really can't give out that information, sir. I suggest you contact her the same way you've been communicating until now."

"No, see. It's my brother who's been talking to her. He set this meeting up, but he's not here. Besides, we've been emailing and she might not get it before I leave. Please? That dog means everything to the kid."

"Look, sir. I'm really sorry but I can't help you."

"You don't even have to give it to me. Just call her for me? Let her know I'm here."

The receptionist looked irritated at him. "I don't know who you are, but Amelia only has one dog right now and he belongs to her. Whatever scam you're running, take it elsewhere."

Dean frowned. "Listen, lady. That dog isn't hers. Just call her. Tell her Sam sent Dean to pick up Riot. I guarantee she wants to know I'm here."

The receptionist's eyes grew too huge for her face. "Sam? You've heard from Sam?"

"Yeah. We've been traveling together for a while now."

"What did you do with him!"

"I haven't done anything to him. I recently got back in the country and we met up. Geeze lady. He's fine."

"He's not fine. Sam has been missing for four months! We reported him kidnapped ages ago."

"Kidnapped?"

"You son of a bitch. You took him!" The woman was on her feet, gun in hand before Dean could blink. She held her aim steady, staring down the barrel at him.

"Whoa, whoa! I didn't take anyone. I called him up, he met me in Louisiana. End of story." Dean held his hands in front of him. "I swear. We've been on a road trip for the past few months. I didn't abduct my little brother. So can we please maybe point the loaded weapon somewhere else?"

She didn't so much as flinch. "You're lying. I'm calling the cops."

"I swear. Look, I can prove it. I'm Sam's brother. He was born May second, 1983. Our father was a traveling salesman and he moved us all over the country after our mom died. Sam grew up rough, but he was a smart kid. Got a full ride to Stanford. He dropped out in his last semester after his girlfriend died in a house fire. His favorite candy is gummy worms and he likes hippie pop music. He still has a weakness for spaghetti-os because he's weird. He has refused to eat or drink anything with corn syrup since before you met him and he hit that damn dog on his way through town when it ran out in front of MY car. Thing still reeks of dog."

"So you researched him. Congratulations. You're a stalker and a kidnapper."

"I'm trying here, lady. What can I do to prove it to you?"

"Let me talk to Sam."

"What? As in on the phone? He does still have his cell phone."

"His phone was found dumped in the garbage bin behind the police station."

Dean sighed. He'd rather just take the gun and end this. If he called Sam he would have to admit where he was, but the chick was at least smart enough to keep a good distance between them and Dean had no doubt she'd shoot him if he tried anything. Fuck.

"Fine. I'll call him. But I've got to reach into my pocket. And I got to warn you, he was sleeping when I left him." Dean moved slowly, slipping his hand into his jacket pocket and drawing out his cell phone. He punched in the speed dial for Sam and flipped it on speaker. He held his breath hoping either Sam or Cas answered. It rang four times before he heard Sam's shaky voice.

"Hello?" Dean recognized the near panic in Sam's tone. "Dean? Where the Hell are you. I know –"

"Sam," Dean said, cutting him off before he could say something stupid and get Dean shot. "Are you okay? What's wrong?" He took a small breath before he thought he ought to add, "You're on speaker."

"I – I'm at Amelia's. Cas is here too. I came to find you. Who else is there?"

"Sam," Dean said in exasperation. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Sam said. It sounded more like a question.

"You said Cas is there?"

"Yeah."

"Put him on for a sec."

The receptionist cleared her throat. Dean glared at her. He covered the mic of his phone and stared her down. "My brother is about to have a panic attack thanks to your good doc. If you think you come first, you can go fuck yourself," he growled.

There was a rustle of fabric and then Cas's voice came over the phone. "Dean. I think you should hurry. Sam seems very distressed. I don't know what to do."

"Cas, I told you to keep Sam at the motel and let me handle this. You know he's not ready for this."

"He was most insistent."

Dean sighed. "I know. Okay, listen to me. Get him out of there. Go anywhere, just not there, okay? I'll meet up with you soon. Can you do that?"

"I will."

"Good, pass the phone back to Sam."

There was a pause and a muttered curse. Sam's voice came back and Dean nearly cussed at the waiver he heard there. "Dean? I put you on speaker. Cas can hear you too."

"Okay. That's fine. Listen kiddo, Cas is going to take you somewhere safe and I'm going to meet you there. Okay?"

"O-okay."

"You're fine. You're safe. Stick with Cas and you'll be fine. I promise."

"Okay, Dean." Dean hated the way he sounded so small. He was going to kill that bitch.

"Good. I've got to go, but before I do, I need you to do one more thing for me. I got a nice dark headed receptionist named Roberta here who seems to think I kidnapped you. Care to set the record straight? She seems pretty put out about the whole thing."

"She's got a gun on you, doesn't she?" And for a moment, Dean could hear the shaky smile in Sam's voice.

"Shut up," he said, eyes flashing a warning at the receptionist in case she might find it amusing too. "So could you please tell her you're not kidnapped? Or sasquatch-napped or whatever."

"Roberta?"

"I'm here, Sam. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Roberta." Dean might have believed him if his voice hadn't cracked.

"Are you sure? You don't sound fine."

"I'm fine. Please stop pointing a gun at my brother. I thought he was dead all that time, it'd be a shame for you to accidentally kill him now that I've got him back." Dean smiled. Trust Sam to crack a joke moments away from hyperventilating.

"This guy's really your brother?"

"Yeah."

"Describe him."

"Leather jacket, dark mussed hair with too much product. Bad boy vibe. Probably didn't do anything but flirt the first ten minutes he met you."

Roberta motioned with her gun. "Hand over your wallet."

"What?" Sam and Dean both spluttered.

"Hand over your wallet. I want to see some ID.

"It's in the car." Dean invented. He didn't think he even had ID with his actual name on it anymore. "I didn't expect to need it to pick up a dog."

"It's him, Roberta. I promise."

"And he didn't kidnap you."

"No."

"Then where did you disappear to? You just vanished."

"I thought he was dead and he called me. Amelia and I were over and I had just gotten my brother back. I wasn't exactly thinking I'd be missed around here. We met up in Louisiana and have been on a bit of a road trip."

The receptionist lowered her gun a bit and nodded at Dean. "We're good Sammy. You and Cas get out of there. Call me when you get somewhere."

"Sam, we need to go," Cas's voice was serious.

"Cas, what's going on?"

"We've been spotted, Dean."

Dean let off a string of curses. "Get out of there, now. Get Sammy and go."

"Sam?" He heard a female voice say.

"Fuck. Sam? Cas?" He called. "One of you answer me."

"Sam does not want to talk to you."

"Who are you?"

"That is not important."

"The Hell it isn't. You're lurking around my driveway at 11 o'clock at night. With my pet, no less. Are you the one who stole him?"

"Sam is no one's pet and he left you."

"Cas! Just get the fuck out of there!" Dean was running out the door, receptionist and gun forgotten. At least until she yanked the passenger door open.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm coming with you. You don't even know the address. What are you going to do? Drive around till you hear shouting? And if you turn out to be trouble, I'm going to put a bullet in your knee and call the cops like I should have done from the beginning."

Dean shoved the key in the ignition and started the car. He threw it in reverse and tore out backwards.

"I don't care what you do lady. I don't have time to argue, but if you keep me from my brother, I'll make you wish you were dead."

"Cas? Are you still there?"

No one answered them directly. They were still talking.

"Sam, sweetie. Why don't you come into the house? We'll get you settled. Just like you never left."

"Do not come any closer," Cas said. In the background, Dean could hear muttering.

"Make a left up here," Roberta said.

Dean yanked the wheel and fishtailed onto the road she pointed to. They careened through several streets and finally, Dean rounded a corner to find a strange tableau arrayed in front of him.

Cas was standing at the foot of a driveway that disappeared behind an ivy covered fence. He stood in front of a shaking Sam, who was staring in horror at Amelia. He was muttering and from where he sat, it looked like one word repeated over and over. "Please."

Amelia had to be the short, brown headed thing standing in the driveway glaring at Castiel. She had her hands on her hips and was scowling.

Dean burst from the car and over to Sam. He spared a glance at Amelia, but his focus was on Sam, who seemed to be completely out of it. He wasn't blinking, but he was trembling from head to toe.

Dean put himself between Sam and Amelia, right in his line of sight.

"Sam," Dean said. Sam's eyes skittered across Dean's face without really seeing him.

"Sam, look at me. Look me in the eye."

Sam's eyes settled on Dean's. There was a moment of clarity, but Sam was too far gone for it to be more than a flash.

"Sam, I need you to take a deep breath. I'm here. You're safe. No one's going to hurt you. You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

Sam's eyes flashed to a point behind Dean and he knew Amelia had moved up behind him. "Sam! Look at me. Ignore her. She can't hurt you now. You're free and you don't ever have to go back. Do you hear me?"

"Oh, but Sam wants to come back, don't you baby?"

Sam started trembling again and took a step backwards, shaking his head. "No no no no no no no" Dean could hear the constant repetition of the word from Sam.

Dean never broke eye contact, he never raised his voice, but his tone was deadly when he spoke. "Cas, get her back. I don't care what you do to her, but get her away from us. Before I do something I regret."

He stepped towards Sam. "Sam. Come on. Look at me. Pay attention to my voice. Listen to me. It's fine. It's all fine. You're safe. You're out. We are going to get into the Impala and we're going to go far away from here. Okay? I just need you to calm down and breathe Sammy. Just breathe. If you pass out I'm not going to lug your heavy ass back to the car."

Bit by bit, Sam seemed to calm. When there was a little less white to his eyes and he had gone from not breathing to quick shallow breaths, Dean thought it might be time to try and move.

He took one step closer and reached out. Before he made contact, he paused. "It's me. It's Dean. We're going to move it to the car. I'm going to set my hand on your arm and we're going to walk over there together. Okay?"

Sam gave a jerky nod and let Dean lay a hand on his arm. Half walking, half shuffling, they made their slow way over to the Impala. Dean pulled open the passenger door and gently pushed Sam down to sit. With less of a chance he was going to face plant on the pavement, Dean squatted down in front of Sam.

"Sam, are you with me?"

Sam gave a tight nod.

"Do you know where you are?"

"The Impala."

"Do you remember where we are though? Where in the country?"

"Texas."

"Good. Do you remember how you got here?"

"Cas. He zapped me here."

"Good, Sammy. You're doing fine. Next bit is easy. I just need you to take deep breaths for me. Can you do that? Nice and slow. In….and out. In…and out. Good."

Sam kept breathing and all Dean could think was that maybe, just maybe Sam wouldn't pass out.

"Do you think you're okay for a minute?"

Sam didn't say anything, just kept focusing on his breathing. As glad as Dean was that he was breathing again, it was less than informative about his current state. "Do you think you're going to puke," Dean asked.

Sam frowned but shook his head.

"That's good. I need you to sit tight for a moment." Sam's shoulders drew tight and his breathing grew shallow again.

"Breathe, Sammy. Dammit. I need you to keep breathing. That's it. Keep breathing. No one is going to bother you. There's no one here. All the crazies are over there. I won't be out of sight. I just need to take care of something then we can leave and you never have to come back again. Think you can sit tight for a minute?"

"Hurry?"

"Course."

Sam nodded.

Dean rose slowly, letting his tired muscles stretch as he moved. As he turned, the gentle expression he had worn for his brother melted into pure fury. Roberta, who was standing closest, stepped between him and the target of his wrath.

"I want to know what's going on here."

Dean kept his eyes fixed on Amelia. "That bitch did something to my brother. She kept him so twisted and fucked up that now he can't even talk about what happened. I don't care who she is to you, anyone who can do that to another person is a monster."

"Amelia did that to Sam?"

Dean glanced at her in exasperation. "Did it look like he was cowering from me or Cas?"

She stepped back. "Whatever is going on, you can't kill her. Not here."

Dean grinned, a barring of teeth as he looked back at Amelia. "I don't need to kill her."

He shouldered his way past Roberta and over to where Cas was gripping Amelia by her upper arm. "This is ridiculous," she was saying. "You come onto my property, after you kidnap my Sam, and now you are keeping him from me. I demand you let me go." She gave a useless tug at Cas's grip.

"Let me explain something to you, sweetheart." Dean leaned in so close that their foreheads nearly touched. "That kid sitting in that car is my baby brother. I've looked after him since I was four. He's my responsibility. When someone hurts Sammy, I hurt them." He grinned. In a harsh whisper, he said, "But there's something else you should know. I hunt monsters for a living. I track them down when they are hurting innocent people, and I kill them. I'm a monster killer. And you, lady, are a monster."

She shuddered and pulled away from him, but couldn't go very far with Cas's hand around her arm. "You should count yourself lucky. My brother is traumatized from whatever you did to him. I'm not going to hurt him more by making him watch you die. Don't think it's not tempting. It would lend a certain amount of closure, but I know Sam and the guilt of it would eat him up.

"So here's why you're lucky." Dean paused and grinned at her. "You get to live a few more hours. I'm going to get my brother settled. Cas is going to watch you until then. Believe me, he's not someone you want to cross either. And then I'm going to come for you. And I'm going to do to you what I've done to all the other monsters I've met." He took a step back. "Just after you scream for it."

He nodded at Cas and turned away. He made his way to the car where his brother was waiting for him. Sam was hanging limply half in and half out of the car. He cracked an eyelid when Dean walked up and then made a half-hearted attempt at getting the door closed. His long frame just sort of hung on the seat. Dean was shocked to realize he hadn't even bothered to turn the car off.

They drove until Kermit, Texas was a bad memory.

x

Dean pulled into a motel around dawn. He paid for a single night and then went to collect Sam. By pulling, prodding, and dragging, he managed to get his not so little brother dumped onto a bed and mostly covered under the comforter. He watched as the kid slipped into a sound sleep. He debated leaving him long enough to take care of the woman he had left back in Kermit, but decided he couldn't let Sam wake up alone and it wouldn't hurt anything to let her sweat.

When Sam was snoring, he stepped outside and let himself sag against the wall. He ran his hands over his face trying to scrub away the memories of the last few days. How did things get so complicated? He was the one fresh from purgatory. Cas too. Yet somehow he felt that Sam was the truly broken one of the three of them.

He leaned against the door until the sun had crept its way up over the horizon then slipped back into the room. If Sam was sleeping, he was going to grab some shut eye too. There was a long day in front of him.

Sam didn't wake until close to ten thirty. Dean had dozed off for about an hour, but was up and pacing again by the time Sam was coherent. The waiting was the exhausting part. Finally, Dean dropped into a chair at the little table and let his head rest on his palm.

"I'm sorry."

Dean jumped, kicking the leg of the table and unbalancing the chair. He slammed his hands down on the top of the table and tried to right himself, but he only managed to knock the table cockeyed. Dean felt the chair tipping and there was nothing he could do. He let gravity pull him down and just twisted to land properly.

He lay where he landed for a moment. What the fuck had just happened? He opened his eyes when he heard Sam calling him.

"Dean? Fuck. Dean are you okay?"

Dean cracked an eye and found Sam leaning over the foot of the bed looking down at him, shaggy hair hanging around his face and big watery eyes wide in concern.

Dean grunted.

"Seriously," Sam said. "Are you alright?"

Dean huffed and pushed himself upright. "Fine, Sammy. You just startled me."

Sam leaned back on his haunches and stared at Dean. "I startled you? You just fell out of your chair."

"Yeah, well. Maybe I dozed off for a minute."

"Right," Sam said, skepticism still thick in his voice.

"Hey, I'm not sleeping beauty in this scenario," Dean said. "I hauled your ass in from the car, if you recall. I was just resting my eyes for a minute."

Sam cast his gaze down towards the hideous comforter he had been laying on, picking at a loose thread. "I'm sorry," he said again.

Dean ran a hand through his hair then collected the chair and righted it next to the bed.

"Hey now, Sammy. None of that, you hear me?"

Sam shrugged and glanced towards the bathroom. Dean knew he'd flee if given the chance.

"I'm serious, kiddo. It's not your fault."

Sam scrunched his nose. "I'm not ten years old, Dean. I haven't been a kid in years."

Dean grinned at him. "Sorry Sam. You'll always be the little brother here."

Sam shifted uncomfortably on the bed. Dean wondered if he'd have to grab his little brother to keep him from running off on him.

Sam sighed heavily and it felt like a weight settling into place in the atmosphere of the room.

"I- I didn't mean for this to happen."

Dean frowned in confusion. "What? For psycho bitch to show her true colors?"

Sam shook his head. "No. I mean, you should still be mad at me. I never meant to..." Here Sam seemed to be unable to go on.

"What is it Sam?"

"I..."

"You never meant to what?"

Sam shook his head and went to roll off the edge of the bed across from Dean's chair. "Nothing. Never mind."

Dean jumped up. Before Sam could disappear into the bathroom, Dean grabbed him by the elbow. He noticed how Sam flinched away from the hold, how he seemed to be avoiding the contact, but didn't let it distract him. He'd file that pain, that pang of guilt and sadness away for a later time, when Sam's mental state was a little more stable and there weren't bigger problems than his distaste for physical contact to worry over.

"Sam," Dean said, still gripping his arm. "I'm not mad at you. I don't blame you for any of this. Come on, man. Talk to me."

Sam gave him a sad kind of smile. One that didn't quite go beyond the curling up of the edges of his mouth. "Maybe you should."

"Should what?"

"Blame me."

Dean had to pause for a moment before he could respond to that. "Why would I do that?"

Sam shrugged. "It's not like I'm completely blameless here."

Dean sighed and dropped his grip. "We've been over this. You didn't do anything. You didn't ask for this to happen. It's not your fault. It's hers."

Sam's little false smile was back. "I don't think it is. I did give up looking for you, you know. I stayed when I could have left. I let her do what she did to me. I think you should probably hate me."

Dean recoiled from the loathing in those words. This was his baby brother, the kid who had wandered around with a goofy smile quoting books and pretending to be Superman. When had things gotten so snarled up inside him that he would assume Dean would hate him for something that wasn't his fault?

"Sammy, no. I don't hate you."

Sam stared at him, not really making eye contact, but closer than he had been in months. "I don't know why not. I hate me."

Dean was at a loss. Sam hated himself? Dean was caught off guard by that. That Sam held a certain amount of self-loathing at any one point was a given. The kid was all tied up in morals and piled the blame on pretty thick at times, regardless of whether it was justified or not. Dean never questioned that this was part of his brother, but he'd never seen this kind of admission, this level of hate directed inwards, not even after the whole Lilith ordeal.

"Sam, I could never hate you."

Sam snorted and stepped back.

Dean frowned. "What?"

"That's not entirely true."

"When have I ever hated you?" Dean was wracking his brain. Never ever had he truly hated Sam. He had hated what Sam had become while drinking the demon blood but he'd come to terms with that. He'd hated some of the decisions Sam had made and some of the situations they had been in. He had been hurt and abandoned and disappointed. He had never actually hated him. Not Sam.

"The final seal," was all Sam said, staring at the way Dean's hands curled in on themselves, not quite fists and not quite relaxed.

"What?"

"I got your message," Sam said.

Dean just stared bewildered at his baby brother. "My message?"

Sam nodded, hand going to the hem of his shirt and meeting up the two ends just past where the buttons stopped.

"The one where I said I forgave you?"

Sam's head jerked up and just for a moment, his eyes searched Dean's. Dean could see the confusion written there, eyebrows knit together and frown pulling down. There was also the unmistakable quiver that Sam tried to hide where he was holding something back.

"No, the one right before I killed Lilith."

Dean stepped forward. "Yeah, that's the one."

Sam shook his head, if possible deflating even more. "No."

"What do you mean, No," Dean demanded. "I called you from where Zach and the rest of those a-holes were keeping me locked away. I said I might not like what you'd been doing but that we were still family, still brothers. I said I forgave you."

Sam took another step away, shaking his head and looking like he wanted to flee. "Don't," he said, stretching his hands out between them like he was warding Dean away.

"Sam?"

"Please, Dean. Don't."

"Don't what? I'm telling the truth."

Sam was shaking his head so hard that his hair was whipping around his eyes. "I know you want to make me feel better, but you can't rewrite history."

"I'm not trying to."

"I heard that message. The one where you said you thought I was a monster. The one where you said you hated me."

"I never said any of that."

Sam was reaching into his pocket. He pulled out his phone. Sam spent a moment scrolling before, shaking, he pushed a button and held the phone out towards Dean.

He was surprised to hear his own voice come through the speaker, filled with rage and hurt.

"Listen to me you blood sucking freak. Dad always said I'd either have to save you or kill you. Well, I'm giving you fair warning; I'm done trying to save you. You're a monster, Sam – a vampire. You're not you anymore, and there's no going back."

The silence hung heavy in the room and Dean felt he might suffocate under it. "Those sons of bitches. If they weren't already dead I'd kill them all."

Sam flinched at the tone, but snuck a glance at Dean. "Wh-What?"

"Sam, I didn't leave that message. I never said any of that. They must have tampered with it, they knew they could screw with you, with us, and so they changed it. I really did say that we were brothers."

"You-You didn't say that?" Sam looked like Dean had just hit him over the head with a brick. The phone fell from his fingers to land with a soft thump in the carpet. "But I thought..."

Dean stepped closer and grabbed Sam by the shoulders. "I swear, they must have changed it."

Sam didn't hardly look up at all. "I thought..."

Dean realized that the message was years old now. "Sam, why do you even still have that?"

Sam stiffened. "I kept it to remind me."

"To remind you of what."

Sam's breath hitched. "What I am."

Dean grabbed Sam's chin and tipped it so that his face was facing Dean's. He waited patiently for Sam to look him in the eye. Sam refused the contact, only meeting his gaze for a second, then eyes slipping back towards the floor or Dean's chest.

"Sam," Dean said calmly. He waited. A brief flicker back to his eyes, then they settled somewhere on his face, looking at his mouth.

"Sam." Sam stared at his lips watching as they formed the word. Dean mentally checked himself. It wouldn't happen overnight. He wondered when the last time Sam had actually looked him steadily in the eye was. Not since before Purgatory, he'd guess. He was kicking himself now for not being more observant.

"You are not a monster."

Sam's eyes skittered sideways, away from Dean's face. "Part one."

"What do you mean?" Dean was trying to keep calm. Did Sam really think of himself that way?

"I still have Demon blood in me."

"That doesn't make you a monster."

"Doesn't it?"

"No!"

Sam jumped at his sharp tone. Dean had to keep himself from cussing. "Sam, you've proved a hundred times over you are more than the blood in your veins. We've got to work on separating your identity and what you do from what's been done to you. You really don't see the difference do you?"

Sam shrugged. "Not exactly like I'm the nicest kid on the block."

Dean closed his eyes. He took a moment to collect himself before he said, "There is a difference. Don't you see? There's a difference between having something done to you and choosing to do something. There's a difference between being an unwilling victim and being a participant. You don't get to skate by with one and you don't get to blame yourself for the other."

Dean pointed at Sam. "Azazel poured the demon blood down your throat when you were a baby, Sam. A baby. You did not choose that. You chose to drink when Ruby offered it to you. There's a difference in those two things. Do you see it?"

Sam remained impassive.

"I'm serious," Dean said. "Do you not see a difference?"

Dean stared at Sam, willing him to absorb what he was saying. Finally, growing nervous with Dean staring at him, Sam shrugged and took another step back.

Dean pushed his palms against his eyes. He would give anything for Sam to understand. "It's okay, man. We'll get there," he said, quietly.

Dean stood with his face in his hands for a moment. Maybe if he pushed hard enough he'd never have to look at this broken shell of Sam again. Maybe if he just stayed there he'd be safe and not have to deal with this. He barely had his own shit together half the time. How was he going to help Sam deal too?

He felt a hand on his arm and looked up to find Sam had stepped closer to him. "It'll be okay, Dean. We'll figure it out."

Dean patted Sammy's arm. "I'm fine," he said. He almost sounded fine too. "Go on and get a shower. You'll feel better after that."

Sam's hand lingered on his arm for another minute, but it was short lived. Sam finally withdrew and shut himself away in the bathroom. Dean was relieved to hear him start the water without locking the door. He didn't feel good about having Sam so off limits to him that he couldn't reach him if something happened. Not that he expected anything to, but things had been so off balance since he returned, he wasn't sure which way to jump next. In a way he almost yearned for the simple, honest struggle of Purgatory. Not for the first time he wondered if he'd not had a better time of it there than here with Sam on earth.

His phone rang. After a quick glance at the closed bathroom door, he stepped outside to take the call. "What," Dean snapped into the receiver as the door clicked shut.

"Nice to hear from you too, brother." Benny's voice came over the line. He sounded unusually quiet.

Dean rested his weight back against the wall. "Benny, hey."

"Everything okay?"

"Peachy."

"That don't sound peachy to me."

Dean heaved a sigh. "It's complicated. I found out some bad news recently."

"Is that why you sound like shit?"

Dean barked a short, mirthless laugh. "Thanks, man. You have such a way with words."

"I do what I can."

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face, noting absently that he needed a shave. "What's up?"

There was a long pause before Benny said, "I hate to ask for anything after everything you've done, but a cup of coffee sure would do me some good."

Dean glanced back over his shoulder towards the room he had just left. Benny had been good to him, but Sam was here now. Sam needed him now. And he couldn't quite shake what Sam had said to him in that motel parking lot after the penny.

Apparently interpreting Dean's silence as hesitation, Benny said, "I'd thank you mightily bud. I'm in a hard way."

Dean hesitated, but finally said, "I'm sorry man, I'm not going to be able to make it." And he was sorry after everything they'd been through, but Sam came first. Always had.

Benny sighed before he finally said, "You mean now, or…" Dean didn't really have an answer. Except he did. He'd been telling Sam for months to either be in or out. Stay with Dean or settle down, but to pick one and stick to it. Maybe it was time for Dean to do the same.

"Listen, man," he said. "Everything you've done for me, I'll never forget it. But this is it."

"End of the line?"

"End of the line." Dean felt some of the tension drain out of him when he finally said it.

"Yeah well, I never like these cell phones anyway."

Dean frowned. "You stay good," he said. Just because Sam came first didn't mean he didn't care about Benny too.

He heard a short laugh on the other end of the line. "You too, brother. And thanks for the ride."

Dean braced himself against the door. "Yeah, man. Adios."

He didn't wait for Benny to say anything else. He hung up the phone and let it hang in his hand at his side. When he finally went back in, Sam was still in the shower. Dean sank onto his bed and glanced at his watch. Sam had been in there for almost half an hour. That was abnormally long, even by Sam's prissy standards.

"Sam?" Dean hollered to be heard over the water. "Sam you okay in there?"

Dean sat up, prepared to do something if need be.

"Fine!" Came Sam's reply. "Out in a minute."

Dean flopped back and let his eyes close. He vaguely knew when Sam exited the bathroom, but was drifting pleasantly somewhere between dreaming and awareness. He was startled awake by a cellphone ringing. He sat up to find Sam answering his phone.

"Hey...Oh, no. He's still here. No, he's sleeping," here Sam's eyes wandered over to Dean who was giving him a questioning look. "Right. No, Cas. Sorry. I didn't realize."

Dean leapt up and over the side of the bed. He motioned for Sam to hand over the phone. "Hold on," Sam said. "Dean's up. He wants to talk to you."

"Cas?" Dean asked into the phone.

"Dean," Cas said. It made Dean shiver the way the angel said his name. "I was beginning to worry."

"Sorry, man. It's been a little crazy. You still good."

"Yes, we are fine here. There have been some discoveries that I would like to show you soon. I was simply worried when I hadn't heard from you."

"Discoveries?"

"I will show you when you arrive. Please do not bring Sam along. He might find them distressing."

"I wasn't planning on it." There were no words to describe how not happening that was.

"How is Sam?"

"Fine. He's..." Dean looked over the table to where Sam had set up in the time he'd been asleep. "He's researching?"

Dean made it into a question seeing the odd site pulled up and the newspaper strewn across the table. Sam simply shrugged.

"I see. When do you expect to arrive to question the woman?"

Dean eyed Sam up. "Not sure yet. I'll be headed that way soon. I'll text before I leave. Take me a few hours to get there."

"Very well." Cas clicked off the phone.

"We really have to teach him to say goodbye or something."

Sam let a short chuckle escape. "It's not like he's any less abrupt in person."

That was technically true, although Dean didn't want to admit it. "Yeah, well," he said with a shrug. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine, Dean."

"Sure you are," he said, but decided to let it drop. "Why did you let me fall asleep?"

"Because you've gotten less sleep than me in the past few weeks. You needed it. Cas okay?"

"Yeah, he was just checking in."

"We really should go help him out. He's been sitting there for a while."

"We?" Dean said. He would have to check Sam for a concussion if he thought he was going anywhere near that place again.

"Yes, Dean. We. I'm not an invalid and I don't want to stay behind. Seriously. I can help. Hell, leave me at the vet clinic if you want. I'll bet Roberta has been about to shoot someone for the last few hours. She ought to be told what's going on."

"Let me get this straight," Dean said. He was trying to get his head around what he was hearing. "You want to go back to the place where you were..." Dean couldn't even say it. His throat grew tight and he thought he might be sick. "You want to go back there. After everything that just happened. You think that's a good idea?"

"I don't want to go back, but it's necessary. I don't want to stay here and let you go off on your own. Bad things happen when we split up."

I don't want to stay here alone is what Sam was really saying. Dean eyed his little brother. "I just don't think it's a good idea."

"Please Dean," Sam didn't look up from his work. "Let's just finish this thing."

Dean deflated a little. He wanted to put at least part of this behind them. Sam couldn't completely forget. Dean was still wondering what had made such a scar that it left Sam worse than his time in the cage. But Dean could at least alleviate some of the terror of knowing that there was some crazy woman out there preying on people.

"Fine," Dean said. "But you're staying in the car. Understand?"

Sam didn't smile, but he nodded. "Fine."

They pulled back into Kermit around five that evening. Dean debated long and hard about whether or not to drop Sam off as he had so off handedly suggested, but ultimately decided against it. He knew from experience that the receptionist was fast friends with Sam and those puppy eyes of his were positively dangerous to anyone and everyone, even Dean wasn't immune. He knew that Sam would just show up twenty minutes later and would come in regardless of what Dean said or asked. Damnit. He'd have to do something to keep Sam in the car. That was really the only option.

They pulled up at a corner not far from their destination. Dean slid into a park next to the curb a little ways back so that they were out of the way and then looked over at his brother. What would get Sam to stay in the car and not come in? He eyed the kid. His wide eyes and shallow breathing were less obvious than his tight, Herculean grip on the door, but all three said Sam was tense and nervous and not in good shape.

Dean leaned over towards him. "Okay, kiddo. What's going on? Talk to me."

"What?" Sam was gripping the seat tight and seemed to be completely beyond caring what Dean saw or thought at this point.

"Talk to me. What's wrong?"

"I'm fine, Dean."

"Bull crap. You are not. Try again."

Sam shook his head. "Let's just get this over with."

"Nope. I'm not going anywhere until we do this. Come on, man. You're making me nervous. What wrong."

"I don't know. I just hate being here. I hate this."

"This being what? Being in Kermit."

"No, I just feel so out of control. What if I see her again and I go right back to how things were?"

Dean leaned back in the seat. This was why he wanted Sam to stay put at the hotel. "You're not going to. I won't let you. You know that."

"I know. It's not just that. I - I don't..."

"Hey, Sam. You're fine, but we need to do this. I have to go in there. I don't want you to be freaked and sitting out in the car alone. So talk to me. What are you feeling right now?"

"Scared," Sam said with his eyes squeezed shut. "Out of control."

Dean nodded. He could work with that. One problem at a time. "Okay. Why? Are you worried she's going to get loose?"

Sam looked at Dean with a brief look disbelief. "No. She'd have to be possessed to get through both you and Cas."

"Then what is it? The house?"

"No, Dean." Sam shook his head looking tenser than ever. "I don't know how to explain it."

"Try," Dean said. "For me."

Sam sucked in a shaky breath. "Okay. I- I'm afraid that something is going to happen, whatever it was when I was there before it felt almost like a fog. I knew what was going on. I knew I needed to stop it, but I also didn't want to. It's like leaving wasn't ever an option. I'm afraid that I'm going to go back to that place, mentally I mean. I could feel it creeping at the edges when I was there last night. It's hard to describe. Like you're sinking - drowning - and there's nothing you can do and nowhere to go and you just have to let yourself sink. I hate that feeling."

Dean put his hand on Sam's. He flipped it over, noticing the barely visible scar that traced his palm from the glass that had grounded him when Lucifer was hounding him every second of the day. He pushed down on the scar, knowing it wouldn't hurt, but also knowing it would remind Sam of that time.

"Remember what I told you?" Dean asks.

Sam barely answers. Just shrugs.

"I said to make me your stone number one. Do you remember?"

Sam nods.

"Then that's what you do now. I'm stone number one. Trust me. No matter what. Trust that what I'm telling you is true. Don't worry about what Amelia or even Cas says. Do you trust me?"

Sam nods again.

"Okay, so then, you know I won't let you go back to her. Not ever. I'm going to make sure you don't have to ever face that choice again. Got it?"

Another nod.

"Then let me hear you say it."

"Okay. You're stone one."

Dean nods. "Good."

"But, how?"

"Do you trust me?"

"Course."

"Then just trust that I won't ever let it come to that. Okay? You and me, we're going to get through this."

"Okay." And for just a minute, Dean thought he might have won at least that battle. Until he noticed Sam chewing on his lower lip. "What if I'm too broken to save?"

"Hey," Dean said, trying to catch Sam's eye. "You aren't broken. You've been through some shit. We'll get through it. Just like we've done everything else. Okay? It wasn't right or good or whatever, but you're not broken."

"But, I completely fell apart last night."

"And if that had been Lucifer? Would you have reacted any differently? It's a wonder neither of us has snapped and ended up permanent guests in the psych ward with all he shit that keeps going down. Trust me, man. As long as you aren't hiding under the bed talking nonsense, we are good. There's nothing to worry about. You're doing better than anyone else would be expected to."

There was a long pause before Sam said, "We really have been through the grinder haven't we?"

Dean snorted. That was putting things mildly.

"You know," Sam said. "After this. After we're done here and we figure out this latest apocalypse, I think we need a vacation. Can we do that? Just pack up and go somewhere quiet and not have to worry about monsters or dead people or the FBI? Just for a week or so?"

"Sure," Dean said. He couldn't imagine a time when they would both have the leisure to go somewhere and not have to worry about that sort of thing, but he was willing to give it a try. At least as much as humanly possible. "Where you want to go?"

"I don't really care. Anywhere. Maybe somewhere warm. I miss California sometimes."

"Really?" Dean said. "What was so special about California?"

Sam smiled. "It was always warm and even miles and miles from the coast, you could almost smell the salt on the air. Everything was bright and sort of clear in a way it isn't anywhere else, except maybe Washington on the sound."

Dean smiled and relaxed back into his seat. "Remember that time Dad took us to the beach up there? You were like eight or nine I think. We drove all night to get to the coast and ended up getting there about sunrise. We camped out on the beach for the day."

"And you got bit by a crab. I remember." Sam smiled.

"I did not. You put a crab in my sleeping bag. Dad even sprang for marshmallows and we had a bonfire."

"Marshmallows are like a dollar a bag, Dean."

"Yeah, but we'd been living on Mac and Cheese and Raman noodles at the time. It was a treat."

Sam snorted softly. "Yeah, that was one of the good nights." He reached in his pocket and pulled out his wallet. Dean watched from the corner of his eye as Sam riffled through a couple of old photos. Sam brought one out that had started to yellow on the back and had a corner crease. He stared at it for a minute, then passed it to Dean.

It was a picture of the two of them beside a bonfire. Sam's cheeks were pink from the nip in the air and Dean was laughing at something. They were both smiling and Sam held his toasted marshmallow up on the end of a stick, beaming as though he'd just had the best catch of the day. Dean was momentarily speechless. He flipped it over and read the inscription.

 _Sam and Dean_

 _Washington_

 _1992_

"You kept this?"

Sam smiled.

"Yeah. I didn't have a lot when I left, but the pictures I had kept in my bag. I was glad they were in my wallet instead of out in the apartment after the fire. Jess had wanted to put together a photo album of our families, but I liked keeping them on me, so I had Kinko's make copies for her to use instead."

Dean felt a pang at the mention of Jessica. One more relationship ruined for Sam by their life. The kid deserved some good. Dean turned, twisted in his seat so that he could see Sam where he was sitting. "Okay, then. You ready for this?"

Sam took a deep breath. He stared into his lap. A short nod.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'm sure."

"And what did I tell you to remember?"

"You're stone number one."

"Good." Dean nodded to himself and started the car. He braced his hands on the steering wheel so they wouldn't shake and give him away. "And you're going to be where during this whole thing?"

Sam was playing with is thumbs, setting one atop the other repeatedly. "In the car."

"That's right." Dean put the car in drive and prepared to leave. This was going to be a long night.

They started up Amelia's street and Dean felt his worry over Sam dissipate as he thought about what he was going into. He had to get into the right frame of mind, and the growing heat of anger was as good a start as any. He could feel his rage filling him up and making his hands grip the wheel even tighter. That thing he was going to see had hurt Sam.

He was just imaging what he would do to her. He would feel his knife slip into her skin and the resulting scream would fill him up. He'd have to find a way, especially this late at night, to keep her quiet enough not to get the cops called. He was also a little worried about what that receptionist girl would do. She knew what was going on and who to point out to the cops should they start asking questions.

He shook his head. It wasn't exactly like this was anything new. They would have to figure that out later. It's not like they weren't already on some pretty serious hit lists already.

They pulled up and Dean again parked on the street. He didn't want Sam any closer to the house than he had to be and he was going to be damned before he actually brought his baby brother onto that property again.

"Okay," Dean said as he turned the car off and relaxed back. "You okay here?"

Sam nodded.

"I'll be back. Just sit tight. Listen to the radio if you want. Let Cas in if I send him out. Otherwise, don't leave the car. Got it?"

Sam nodded again.

"Sam?"

"Yeah. I got it. Don't leave the car."

"You are okay, right. You'll be fine here by yourself?"

Sam nodded. There was something hard and tight in his face, something Dean hadn't expected, but wasn't sure what it was exactly. "Yeah. I'll be fine."

Dean shrugged off his seat belt and opened the door. As he was straightening, he heard Sam call his name. Dean paused with his hand resting on the door. "Do me a favor," Sam said. "Don't kill her."

"What?" Dean said. "Why?"

"Short version or long?"

Dean paused. "Short."

"Death is too quick."

"Okay," Dean said, not quite following. "How about the long version." He glanced up at the cottage, aware that Cas was watching from the window.

"She deserves to pay for what she's done. I don't think I was the first. There's going to be evidence in there that she's done this before. Do what you want to her, but don't kill her. I want her locked away."

"Sam..."

"I mean it Dean. I'm calling the cops at seven tomorrow morning. Have your revenge, but then she's going to live with it."

"Sam..." Dean said. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Please, Dean. You think she's going to have some sort of easy time in prison? Do you know what they do to people like her? I just want to see her get what she's got coming to her. I don't want to know that you have something that vile on your hands."

Dean paused. He knew that he couldn't really argue the point. He also knew that he could restrain himself if need be. He thought about her tied up and helpless and at the same time he felt relief that he would soon avenge his brother, he felt a slight chill at the realization that he was about to do what he normally did to monsters to a human. Not that he felt much compunction at the deed. He believed whole heartedly what he had told her before. The woman wasn't human. It didn't matter what beat in her veins. She was a monster, through and through. He would have no qualms about killing her.

But then he looked at Sam, who was sitting, jaw hard and body tense. He was almost on the edge of his seat looking up to Dean. Dean knew what he was saying, understood what Sam was asking. He knew that to let this woman go to jail and live that life would be almost crueler than anything Dean had been considering. They would eat her alive in there.

"One condition," Dean said.

"What's that?"

"You have to promise me there's something in there that we can use against her. If I get in there and don't find anything or if there's no way to turn her over without involving one of us, you let me handle it."

Sam didn't even hesitate. "You won't have that problem." He stared at his lap and if his gaze was any more intense, Dean thought the fabric covering his thighs might burst into flame.

"And you don't want to tell me why that might be before I go in there?"

Sam shook his head. "I'm sure Cas has already found everything you need. He'll show you. Just..." Sam's posture drooped a little. "Just don't hate me okay?"

Dean took a long breath and counted to ten. "I won't hate you. We went over this before. I won't ever hate you." There was a dully tense silence between them and Dean hesitated. "Fine," he said after a long moment. "I won't kill her as long as I find ample proof to put her away."

Sam gave a clipped nod and Dean shut the door. Through the open window he said, "Don't leave the car." Dean marched up the short walk and stomped up the three low steps to get to the front door. He raised his hand to beat on the door, but Cas had already yanked it open before he could.

"Where is Sam," Cas wanted to know.

Dean gestured behind him, stepping into the house. "He's in the car. He didn't want to stay at the motel and I couldn't let him come in here. He'll be fine. I think he'll probably pass out again in a few."

Cas hovered at the edge of the room, watching Dean. "I found something you should see. I'm not sure what you'll want to do about it, but it changes things considerably."

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. Was no one going to come out and say whatever the hell it was that was so bad in this house? He glanced around the little living room that the front door opened into. He looked Cas square in the eye and demanded, "What is it?"

Cas frowned. "It is better that I show you."

"Cas," Dean barked. He was over getting the run around here. "Just tell me."

"I cannot. But you should know that sexual violation was the least of the things that happened to Sam and he was not the only one."

"What?" Dean spluttered. How could the rape not be the worst of it? That seemed horrible enough to Dean. "What are you saying?"

"I should show you," Cas said. "Follow me."

Dean started after him when something occurred to him. "Cas, wait. What about the Amelia chick? Where is she?"

"She is still restrained in her bedroom. I have been checking on her occasionally and I can still hear her in there. Would you rather check on her first?"

Dean hesitated. It was important that he have the whole story, but what could be worse than rape made his stomach churn. He would have to see it eventually, but he did want to make sure everything was going as planned. "Yeah. Let me take a look and then you can show me whatever it is."

Cas gave a sharp nod and moved to go up the stairs.

Dean followed Cas up a flight of stairs and down a short hall lined in bright blue carpet. They stopped outside a white door with a gold doorknob. He paused at Cas's finger and listened at the door. Inside he could hear a slight shuffling, like someone rearranging themselves. He stooped down to look in the keyhole on the door.

Dean found Amelia tied to a chair in the center of her own bedroom, gagged and squirming in her seat. Dean glanced back at Cas with a raised brow. They moved back down the hallway.

"Really? You tied her up?"

"It seemed most appropriate. She had already tried to harm herself several times in her need to escape. I was worried about what she might do. Was I wrong?"

Dean smirked. "No Cas. It's fine. I just didn't expect you to be that kinky is all."

"Is that some reference I don't understand?"

"No, Cas. You know, kinky. Like tie people up for the pleasure of it. Whip 'em till they beg. That sort of thing."

"I still don't understand."

"What kind of porn did you watch exactly?"

Cas gave the distinct impression of being ruffled. Dean thought if his wings didn't exist on another plane of reality or some such he might see them shift awkwardly. "Never mind. It's not important."

"Very well. Would you like to go in or...?"

Dean braced himself for what might be coming. First Sam's dire warnings and now Cas's. He was beginning to dread whatever he was going to see next.

"Show me what you were looking at. I'll deal with her later. She's waited this long. Another twenty minutes won't hurt."

"Follow me, then." Cas moved off from the base of the stairs and walked to a nondescript door off the hallway. When he opened it, it revealed a long staircase descending down into what Dean assumed must be the basement. Cas paused. "I should warn you that this might be...distressing. Are you ready?"

Dean frowned. "Let's just get this over with."

Cas flicked a switch and a light came on over the stairs. Dean was looking down a long flight to a concrete floor. He wasn't sure what lay beyond, but so far it looked like a normal basement.

Slowly, they descended the wooden stairs. The stairs themselves felt solid and Dean noticed the whole place had a sort of cheerful homeliness that he supposed Sam must have been drawn to. The feeling lasted until they got to the last few steps and Cas reached over to flick another light switch on. What met Dean's eyes filled him with horror.

He'd had vague expectations of some sort of serial killer enclave littered with stalker photos and the like. He might have guessed swinger dungeon if he'd been hard pressed and feeling inventive, especially as embarrassed as Cas seemed to be. This was worse.

As the light flooded the basement, Dean was met, for lack of better word an actual dungeon, not the sexy, playful kind. The rot until you die, never see the light of day kind. Although it was all mixed up with the other kind too. To his left was a wall full of instruments of torture. There were whips and floggers, knives, and various things that Dean could only begin to guess at their purpose, which was impressive as he'd trained under Alistair. Under the wall of torture sat an office desk, complete with files scattered across the top and a computer in one corner. There was even a phone set up just to the front edge. Dean could see pictures poking out from some of the files and he was sure he could see DVD's mixed in as well.

To the other side was a long, metal examination table. The kind one saw in horror movies. He was sure there might have been one in that asylum the visited way back when as well, but that thing had been shut down in the sixties. It was long, maybe seven foot and had restraints strategically placed to hold ankles, wrists, and forehead. There was a variety of medical equipment surrounding the table as well. Dean recognized most of it, having been on the receiving end at one point or another in his life. A defibrillator. A ventilator and IV stand. Hell, he even thought he saw a dialysis unit set up over there too. What truly made him recoil though was the array of needles and bottles housed in glass cabinets set up against the wall. There was no way that was full of anything pleasant.

But the worst thing. The thing that drew his attention back again and again. The thing that made him sick to his stomach, was the thing in the middle of the space. It was a low, square cage made of steel. It had bars that crisscrossed and rings attached that Dean could imagine being used to tie someone down. Not that there would have been much need. The cage was small and anyone squeezed inside would have very little wiggle room at all.

Set into the bottom edge along the side facing them were two slots with bowls set just beyond. Dean felt his stomach turning when he realized one still had water in it and both had _Sam_ inscribed on the side. In the back corners of the room at the ceiling, were cameras that pointed directly at the cage and a black cloth lay crumpled off to the side. Further back, along the far wall, Dean could see other rings set into the wall and floor. A collar lay open on the floor. Dean walked over and picked it up. It had a heart tag and on the front it read, "Sam." The back said "Owned by Amelia."

Dean felt the bile churning in his gut.

Cas lay a hand on his shoulder. "There is more."

Dean turned back to face him, collar still draped across his hands. He wasn't sure he could take more. "What else?"

Cas gestured towards the desk. "There are DVD's of Sam. And others, but he seems to be the most well documented. And he has a file. It's the one on top."

Dean stepped away from Cas and towards the desk. If he didn't find out now, he'd never have the courage. He stopped in front of the desk, pushed the chair back and stood before the spread of files. On the top was one marked S.W.

Dean picked it up. It was thick and heavy. Several DVD's lay under it all marked with Sam's initials and dated about a week apart. He ignored them for the time being, unable to watch them yet, and thumbed open the file.

The folder fell open to its center fold. On the left was a medical chart, almost benign looking. A picture of Sam as he had been sometime last year was clipped over the top of it. He was standing in a park wearing one of his flannel shirts with the sleeves rolled up. He was smiling, although not at the camera. It was cropped around his shoulders and head so that Dean couldn't tell what he was looking at.

On the opposite side appeared to be notes, almost like journal entries of some sort. Dean flipped through the pages on the left side and came up with more medical looking notes and charts. Nothing eye catching beyond their general content. Instead he thumbed through the other side. This was filled with more notes interspersed with photographs and post it notes. Dean was trying very hard not to be sick across the front of the desk.

"Cas..."

"I know."

"Have you read it yet," Dean asked. He wasn't sure what answer he was hoping for.

"Yes," Cas said simply.

Dean felt his heart sink. "And?"

"You should read it for yourself."

Dean hesitated. That meant it wasn't good. Dean wasn't sure how much more he could stand knowing. He knew he could load up the Impala now and just leave, take him and Sam to the beach somewhere and not worry about any of this. But at the thought of his brother, he stopped. Sam deserved better. He deserved justice. Dean knew he couldn't right it, not by a long shot, but he had to know. He couldn't help if he didn't know.

"How bad is it?"

"Bad," Cas said in a gravelly voice. "Perhaps you should take it upstairs?"

Dean nodded. He flipped the folder closed. He riffled through the top DVD's and collected all the ones he could find that had Sam's initials on it. He thought about going to get the Jack from the trunk, but decided against it. He didn't think he could face Sam's questions and he knew that Sam would give him that look if he came out for it. He'd soldier through then get roaring drunk at the nearest bar.

He hefted his load and set off up the stairs, not even looking around at Cas. He made his way through to the back of the house to a kitchenette and sat at the abhorrently pleasant table. How many times had she sat here and enjoyed a breakfast while torturing his brother?

He let the folder and DVDs drop to the surface and sank down in the chair. He hesitated over what he should dive into first.

He would have to look at all of it eventually. He wasn't sure he really wanted to see the evidence just yet. He was still trying to get his mind wrapped around what had happened. He would deal with the DVDs in a minute.

x

He flipped the file back open and really took a moment to digest what he was reading. It was a long list of everything under the sun. He found allergens, likes, dislikes, everything. It was all arrayed out in black and white, his brother at the most basic, statistical level. On it he noted a couple of things even he hadn't know. Maybe Sam hadn't.

He saw a note about the corn syrup. He also saw that Sam was allergic to turnips, mildly so, but it would bear remembering for future reference. Not that it was something they were likely to encounter any time soon. He'd be really surprised actually if it ever became an issue, but that wasn't the point. Someone had run pretty extensive blood tests on his baby brother. They had kept meticulous notes on him and what he was good at, bad at.

Dean flipped to the next page over. It was a detailed analysis of a strange, sulfur based compound that Amelia - or whoever she had roped into doing the tests – hadn't understood or ever really identified. Dean grimaced. He'd thought that it was only the people with the Croatoan virus that contained anything like that. Even that doctor in River Grove hadn't spotted anything really unusual. Dean wondered what they'd done to turn it up. Then again, it could be a leftover from Sam's time in the cage.

He read through those notes pretty thoroughly. It seemed the researcher had been baffled as to the source of the unknown molecule, but had not ever really decided on what it might be or why it was there. From what he could make out, it was harmless, benign. He'd have to remember it though. When this was through, he'd like to get this corroborated by a real doctor.

The next page was more of the same, mostly on Sam's reaction to the Leviathan goo in the corn syrup. He'd no idea if that was a result of something they had done to it or just Sam's genetic luck. The doctor didn't know either. They speculated it had to do with the unknown sulfur compound, but were unsure. There was a handwritten note at the bottom of the page that looked like they had been testing the theory but couldn't prove it one way or another.

The next page was more notes, it seems they had been testing Sam's resistance to the corn syrup and its effects. The next few pages were a long series of notes on his behaviors and reactions to a number of combinations of serums and dilutions they had been feeding him. It looked like in the right doses, the effect was extreme malleability and suggestibility without the hallucinations. Dean shuddered. No wonder Sam avoided it in day to day life if it had been used against him all this time. Dean would have to be extra careful from now on.

The last page was a list of entries mostly detailing minor medical things. A couple of times he'd needed stitches and one fever that they'd treated. Dean let the papers flop down and took a deep bracing breath. That had been terrible and the implications of their research were horrifying, but it had been laid out in such a matter of fact way that Dean was able to look at it with some distance. He was bracing himself for the next step, sure that the personal entries that were on the right side would be far worse than what had been on the left.

He moved the picture of Sam, looking at it closely. He was mildly taken by the expression on Sam's face in the image. He was smiling, half laughing. It was the most carefree Dean had seen him since before even Cold Oaks. He was sad to realize that he could put his finger on exactly the last time Sam had laughed like that with him and it was a long, long time ago.

He set the photo aside.

Underneath it was a stack of thick, tightly lined paper that held flowing handwriting. Dean was slightly confused about the difference in handwriting between the two sides of the file. She had been acting all on her own right? It couldn't have just been her that ran the blood tests, he knew, but who in the world would willingly help the woman do something so sick?

He flicked back through the file just to make sure he hadn't missed a consent form or something that would look professional and make someone think Sam had actually agreed to all this. Given the way the kid was reacting to the aftermath, Dean was almost worried something like that had happened. But he didn't find anything. Unless it was hidden elsewhere or at the bottom of the second stack, it was all legitimate torture and being held against one's will. Didn't doctors have some sort of oath or something?

Dean shrugged it off. He knew he was stalling and so he grit his teeth and started reading. It would not do to get too distracted. The first page started off simply enough.

 _Day 1_

 _Sam moved in yesterday. He only had one bag and that car. I asked him where all his things are but he claims there is no more. I've never known anyone who could fit all their worldly possessions into a single bag. I'm sure there are a few more odds and ends in the car, but Sam refuses to let me look around out there for now._

 _I glanced through what he brought. It's mostly all clothes and a few ratty old books. It's as if he were some sort of homeless drifter. Maybe he is. He mentioned he had a brother, but I get the impression there's something sad to that story. He only ever talks about him in the past tense and won't tell me his name._

Dean smirked at that. Even after agreeing to live with Amelia, it seems Sam had guarded Dean's secrets jealously.

 _Everything is on schedule. Sam has a slightly higher tolerance to my usual methods but it has not been overly concerning. I think I'll have to look into why though. I wonder if it is something environmental or genetic. Has he been conditioned to resist or is it just a natural tolerance? I'm not sure. I think he's just a stubborn man. I love a good challenge. I will be starting him on the gradual increase program tomorrow._

Dean frowned at the entry. So she had done something to him. She mentioned her "Usual Methods," but didn't actually say what that might be. Dean supposed there was probably a record somewhere. He flipped to the next page.

 _Day 6_

 _I discovered something interesting today: Sam is unusually picky in his food. I thought perhaps he was just overly health conscious. I assumed he was one of those paleo types. It is the fad at the moment, but it seems he has some sort of reason to be overly cautious in his food selection. I know I'll find out about allergies soon. Until then I suppose I'll just have to go along with it, but it does worry me._

 _I also get the sense that there are a lot of things Sam is not telling me. It is unusual to have such resistance, but I think it makes it all the more exciting to try and figure out exactly what his secrets are. It's more interesting when there's a puzzle. It does make my part a bit more difficult. I am going to have to try the new Induction track soon. I do not believe he will respond to the regular course and I am eager to get to work._

 _I have selected a very particular schedule for his hypnosis. Soon I should be able to start his medicinal regiment._

Dean's fist went tight. Amelia had been brainwashing Sam, even going so far as to hypnotize him. How far did her reach go? Obviously that would contribute to some of Sam's feelings of being out of control. Dean forced himself to flip the page. There was a bit of date gap between it and the next entry. Almost a week and a half.

 _Day 17_

 _Sam is settling into his new life nicely. We've had a few issues, but nothing I couldn't handle. Oddly enough domestic life seems alien to him. He acts almost as though he likes the trappings but is completely bewildered by what to do in the most mundane of settings. If I leave him on his own, he invariably elects to spend his time reading. I have made sure he knows he has full access to the television and gaming systems. Understandably, I have not allowed him to have a computer. Soon he wouldn't want it anyway, but it is odd. It's as if the concept of free time is completely new. I wonder if he and that brother perhaps had some kind of codependency or if there's more even than I know. I do know that he seems just as happy with Ramen noodles as with a five course meal and he's quite capable of entertaining himself quietly._

 _I am worried that this unusual outlook might have negative effects on the transition, but I've yet to see much more than a slight delay. It has taken an extra couple of days for the hypnotherapy to produce the desired results, but I find my control growing daily._

 _I miss Randy. He was a most obedient pet. I was sad to see him go, but I think that Sam might even out shine him._

She missed Randy? So Sam was right. She had done this before. And it was methodical, scientific. It was almost as if she had no concept that what she was doing was even remotely wrong. Dean shuddered.

 _Day 20_

 _Sam and I are almost to the next stage. I find him more and more docile, although he has not quite lost that inquisitive, defiant edge. If I am not careful I find that he balks. I must be cautious in my phrasing. If I assert commands, he is more likely to refuse. If I ask or present an argument, he is much more likely to acquiesce. It has made for some very interesting situations._

 _I expect I should be ready to introduce him to his new room shortly._

 _Day 23_

 _I asked Sam today whether he would be willing to move to the next stage. Of course, I didn't phrase it in quite those terms. It has been wonderful to watch him coming to my side these past weeks. I am amazed at just how pliable and willing he is to work with me._

 _I brought in the box and set it on the edge of the bed where Sam had stretched out reading. He has been confined to his room for the past three days and has obeyed beautifully. All I needed to do was ask him if he would stay there for me and he has. He has not even left to use the restroom._

 _I have of course been vigilant in taking care of his needs. It is important at this stage to not neglect them. Pets seem to be either of two temperaments. Either they pine or they defy with too little attention. I am not sure which Sam may be, but I am not eager to find out. Too much attention and they do not learn the expected discipline. I have been extremely careful not to allow this to be the case._

 _As Sam glanced up, he saw me and immediately drew up to a proper attentive pose. I am glad that he was already well trained in that. I wonder who taught him how to react that way. Perhaps he is naturally submissive. He has taken remarkably little correction to his behavior to get to the desired training._

 _He has also been very good about eye contact. I had to discipline him only twice about it before he began correcting himself. Of course this will be reinforced as we move further along in his program, but it is nice to know that he learns quickly._

 _I must admit I took some pleasure in the look of Sam as he waited for me to address him. While it is not time to let him come to crave my approval as he will at a later time, it is certainly enough that I should enjoy him. He has been delicious._

 _I must apologize, I am allowing personal preferences to color my reports._

 _Sam was quick to agree when I explained the process of the collar and the move to him. He seemed almost eager. I was careful ensure he knew I was adopting him out of love and that he would always have a home with me._

Dean grit his teeth and had to force himself to continue. Of course this woman had hit Sam where he was most vulnerable and she probably didn't even realize what she had done.

 _I was relieved when he took the collar himself and placed it around his own neck. I must admit I was worried it would take some cajoling. When asked if he was ready to see his real room, he was eager, even excited._

 _I placed the tag on its ring, showing his ownership, which again seemed to please him in a way. I'm not sure what exactly made his eyes shine with such ferocity, but I do believe he was overjoyed. I could see in that moment the kind of boy he must have been, all smiles and dimples. He would have been adorable._

 _I clipped the lead and asked him if he was comfortable with it. He seemed to think for a minute and asked why I felt it was necessary. I explained to him that it was merely my way of offering guidance and showing my love, no my desire to provide for him. He thought this over for a long moment then nodded, dimples returning. In that moment I wondered if he had been training me. I think I might do a lot to see those dimples again._

Dean shuddered. He remembered Sam's dimples. They had been cute when he was five, and they always seemed to make him look boyish and young. Dean was sickened to know that this thing had apparently been lusting after Sam. He was hesitant to call it love since he wasn't entirely sure anyone who did this type of thing could be capable of love, but he saw a glimmer of desire in her words _._

He swallowed and continued.

 _I led Sam to the top of the stairs. I told him that what he was about to see might seem strange at first, but it really was what I thought might make him happy soon. He would only need to trust me and he would see why I thought he was the right one to live here. He struggled to understand. I have noticed that is the way. As they progress through the program, they become less capable of processing the complex._

 _I led him down the stairs. He paused at the foot as the light came on. I saw the hesitation in his features. It took some gentle persuasion, but finally Sam acquiesced and took a step further into the room. From there it was only a matter of leading him over to the standing hitch. I tied the lead off, giving him a little bit of slack to move, but not enough for him to sit._

 _I stood back and looked at him. He was stunning. It was time. I left him there to go collect his things and to test him. If he follows direction and does not untie the lead, he is ready. I could have bound him, but he must do it of his own will first. He must realize that he will follow my lead before I can go any further._

 _Naturally, there was very little for me to actually gather. I had been preparing for this day for a long time. I already had his bowls ready and he soon wouldn't need clothes. There were a couple of odds and ends I wanted to bring down from his personal belongings, but the majority would have to be packed up and placed in storage for the time being._

 _I went up to the spare bedroom. I know personal items sometimes make things much easier for my pets during this time, but Sam seems not to have many. I pulled out his extra clothes and folded them neatly. I collected his toiletry items. He might not be needing much, but judging by his hair, we'd be using the brush at least. I debated on whether or not to bring his toothbrush as well. Mostly I knew I was dithering. I knew he would never be needing this again. I was still a little... sentimental I suppose. I tucked it in with his other things, his soap and shampoo. I so love the way his hair smells after he uses it. I might break it out on special occasions. I'm sure Sam will like the treat._

 _He had left his duffel in the bottom of his closet and I pulled it out. I upended it on the bed to take stock of what was left in there. I have never known a man who did not at some point unpack and settle into a place. That seemed accomplished for Sam when he had hung up his shirts._

 _There was a small, leather bound book, filled with alarming sorts of nonsense. I wondered if it was his. It seemed to be filled with sketches and progressed almost diaristicly, although from what I read it was laid out much more like a field journal. I think I must have found me a writer. A dark minded one at that._

 _I tucked that away with his books and picked up the other object that had fallen out. It was small and golden - some sort of pendant. It was a fierce animalistic face with carved horns attached to a leather thong._

Dean sucked in a breath. Sam had had his amulet. He'd kept it all this time. He'd kept it and never mentioned it to Dean. Not once. Dean felt the shame creeping hot up his neck. Sam had kept it. Suddenly his declaration not too long ago made so much more sense. It hadn't been Sam that refused to be brothers. It was Dean.

Somewhere in the back of Dean's mind, there was a part of him expressly describing what kind of idiot he had been all this time.

He wondered what had happened to it at this point. Did Sam still have it? God, Dean hoped so. He'd do almost anything to see it again. He had regretted throwing it away the minute he got in the car. The look of hurt on Sam's face had pleased him at the time. It had been his goal, after all, but he had never truly meant the thing that was implied by throwing away the one symbol of their brotherhood that had survived all the other shit in their lives. When this was all over, he was going to track it down if he could.

Dean suddenly remembered the message Sam had held onto for all these years. If Sam had been convinced that Dean hated him and thought he was a monster, why had he kept the amulet? Surely if Sam believed what he had said, he would be only too glad to be rid of the thing. Dean would have thought of it as a reminder of all he had lost.

Of course, that's not how Sam worked at all. Sam probably had seen it as a reminder of what they had once had. He probably held out hope that they could one day go back to that. Dean wasn't so naive that he thought they would ever be the same, but he was going to make sure that Sam knew there was no one else on earth he would die to protect. He was going to make sure Sam understood that no matter what happened they were still brothers.

The deep ache in his chest wasn't lessening, but he was sure that now he had his purpose for what to do next. Make Amelia pay, then convince Sam they were still brothers, even through it all.

Dean was aware that only a couple of days ago, he'd barely been able to look at Sam. He knew that he'd harbored that resentment and loathing and disappointment for so long. Now it all seemed so misdirected. He still felt a little bitter about the whole ordeal but he was no longer sure who he was really that mad at. Not Sam. Maybe a little, but not really. It wasn't Sam's fault any more than anyone else's from what he could tell. Dean forged on.

 _It was a curious object and one I suspected meant something to Sam. He never wore jewelry and to find it tucked away like this suggested it was important. I'd have suspected it was meant to be a gift except the leather was worn and there was a patina to the pendant. I assume it must have belonged to his brother._

 _I held out one of his books and then collected his bowls, the brush and a bottle of water to take down to him. When I returned, Sam was still standing where I had left him. His hands were limp by his side and his head was bowed, but I could tell he had done as I asked._

 _I smiled. Good. He was learning. I gave him the bottle of water and told him it was okay to drink it. I know he must be dying of thirst, I hadn't been in to see him yet that day and I had been running behind. He drank a few sips. The good boy didn't try to down it all as he had done in the past. He kept a respectful awareness of my presence but seemed content to do as I asked for the moment._

 _I went to the closet behind the stairs and pulled out the largest pillow I have. None of my previous pets had ever been quite as tall as Sam, but I think it will do. I put it down just beyond him, far outside of the lead slack he currently had. I laid the book down on top of the pillow. I could tell he was watching me, but never once caught my eye._

 _I told him I was proud of him so far and that soon we would get him settled properly. For now I had a couple more things to attend to. I left him for another couple of hours. When I returned, he was still standing at the hitching ring. He made such a beautiful figure. I positively burst with excitement. None of the others have ever completely left the lead alone. None had ever untied it, but they'd played with it._

 _I beamed at him and told him how wonderful he was. He seemed to swell a little under the praise. I then settled him with a nice long lead to the kneeling ring. Sam didn't fight it and took well to the pillow. I told him he would have another half hour of light then, it would be time for bed. A glance at my watch showed it was a couple of hours earlier than normal but it would matter very little. Since there are no windows, it makes it easy to control their sleep patterns and I imagine he was tired. New changes often bring a lot of stress on a pet and the sleep will be good for him._

 _I left him sitting on his pillow and headed upstairs. I knew tonight would be difficult. It is always hardest the first few nights. I wonder how he will handle his new situation. I know he will be hungry come morning. I didn't try to feed him today. He will be embarrassed enough when he has his accident tonight. I don't want to add the humiliation of having solid waste to that. I worry that he didn't mention needing the restroom when I came down to put him to bed, but I'm sure it won't take long. Tomorrow is going to be a long day for both of us._

There was a blank page. Dean wondered why.

 _Day 24_

 _I was right. As planned, Sam wet himself in the night. It is always hardest the first time to get them to understand they are reliant on me. I know he will come to accept it in time. He was subdued and quiet today. I tried to reassure him, but he seemed nearly inconsolable, whether from embarrassment or something else I'm not sure. It took me a good hour to get him to strip and another to submit to a proper bath. I left him the bath robe for today. No need to be unnecessarily cruel, especially as he is doing so well with the lead. He didn't even try to untie it, not that I think he could, but when I returned this morning it had been untampered with, although he had curled as far away from the bed as was possible._

 _I believe he will be more pliant tomorrow. I did go ahead and feed him from a plate tonight. I got him to allow me to feed him. I will have a more intensive session for him tonight just to ensure everything is on track._

 _Day 25_

 _Sam had his second accident. I introduced the litter today. He seems to be both embarrassed and relieved by it. I think he was hoping there would be more regular bathroom breaks but he does not seem to mind the litter. I plan to see how long it takes to train him to that. At my best estimate it should only be a day or so. That will take some of the stress off of him and will be a considerable lighter load on my washing machine. I know he won't be using the pillow for long, but they do seem to ease the transition and I would not see him deprived of that despite his progress._

 _Later tonight I will start feeding him from his bowls. That will make it easier when it's time for him to start using them himself. I am a little sad that my pet is growing up so quickly. But that is the way of it and soon we'll have other things to keep up occupied._

 _Day 27_

 _Sam is doing well. He seems not to even notice his nudity anymore and he has begun to sleep on the floor as he should. I will reserve the pillow as a reward. He has also begun to take his meals as a proper pet. I have begun to tie his wrists and he will do almost everything I ask. He is still shy of baths and luckily seems to be clean enough not to need them every day. That is a vast improvement over some of my previous pets._

 _He likes his hair being brushed. I really should cut it to make it more manageable but it pleases both of us at this moment._

 _I think it is time I sent for the doctor to do a full examination._

 _Day 30_

 _The doctor came today. He was almost as curious about Sam as I was. He seems fascinated by this process from a scientific point of view and has been most cooperative so long as I make steady reports and allow him some room to experiment while he's here. Since he's doing me a favor and he's always so good with my pets, I am happy to oblige._

 _He did a thorough physical and drew blood. Sam didn't like either operation. I almost had to restrain him when it came time to draw blood. I had no idea he had such a phobia of needles. That will be good to know later._

Dean grunted. Sam wasn't really afraid of needles, although they had been poked and prodded enough in their lifetimes to come to despise them. Dean was more than certain Sam was just leery, even in his stressed, brainwashed mental state, of anyone having his blood. They'd been through the rigmarole enough times that if Sam were operating on autopilot and more importantly on his base instincts, they all knew that he had been trained to avoid being discovered.

Sam had secrets, some of them flowing through his very veins and Dean knew he would take a lot of them to his grave. It was only a matter of time, if this is something Amelia did on a regular basis, before she pushed too far and Sam snapped back. Dean wondered if that was what had happened. He still hadn't quite figured out what had made him leave or what had convinced Amelia to let him go. Sam had taken all his stuff so either it was an ingenious jail break or Amelia had set him free.

 _Day 39_

 _I started Sam on the cage today. He does not like it but he does not complain either. I can tell from the way he sits inside with those pleading eyes that he'd rather be any number of other places, but I don't think I can skip this part of his training. It's important that he learn his place and after this we can begin to enjoy some other more interesting benefits of the relationship between us. I am unsure, but Sam might just be the one that goes all the way. I am warily anticipating the day when I offer him the opportunity to take a proper walk. I have high hopes but it is too soon to really know what might come of them._

 _I began his introduction to the cage lightly. I got him to go in and left the door open. I asked him to stay there for me. I have been told that just knowing they can leave at any time helps to keep them calm. I think perhaps he dislikes small spaces, but fortunately it does not seem to be any sort of phobia, just a dislike that we will soon overcome._

 _He graduated to a closed door about an hour in. I could tell he had calmed down considerably and was even beginning to relax. I had stayed at my desk the entire time to make sure that nothing went wrong. When I stood, he glanced at me hopefully. I truly think he believed I'd let him out, but I had to go on with it. I tried to reassure him. He seems to respond best to his trigger phrases, particularly ones to do with the lead. I have found those often make him most likely to cooperate even against his own nature. It has been a saving grace on a number of occasions._

 _When I latched the door, I noticed a significant increase in his breathing. I was forced to sit with him until the attack passed. I returned to my seat for another half hour or so before I deemed him comfortable enough to proceed. Normally I would never move so fast, but Sam exceeds many of my normal expectations. With Randal, it took almost three days before he would stay in the locked cage without panicking on me and he had been by far my most successful trial to that point._

 _I got up once Sam seemed as comfortable as he could get with the door closed to the cage. I believe he must have had some kind of extraordinary life before we met, because he adapts so easily and quickly._

 _He followed me as I moved to kneel down beside him. I was careful to show him the lock. Thus far, I have had relatively little need for restraints, but it is important that Sam know how to handle this task._

 _I explained what I was going to do. By this point, he was calm and relaxed. He nodded when I asked if he understood and was prepared. I locked the lock on. Sam flinched a bit at the sound of the lock clicking home, but he was good. He didn't panic, his breathing barely hitched. I hesitated wondering if I should sit with him but he wasn't overly emotional about this step._

 _I am amazed at how seamless this went._

 _I sat at my desk for almost an hour before I deemed Sam stable enough. I should have ended there. That was far more than I would have done with any other pet at a time. I would likely have to go through this again tomorrow and maybe the next day just to make sure Sam wouldn't panic if I have to lock him up for some reason._

 _I hesitated. I really should have quit, but I was curious. I am confident in Sam's trust in me and we seem to work well together. I decided to push just a bit further._

 _I rose and went upstairs. I heard Sam shuffle in his cage, but he didn't cry out or whine. I left the door to the basement open just in case. I could always close it if I had unexpected company, but I wanted to hear if Sam started panicking. I walked around for a bit, just so that he would know I was still there, then settled in at the top of the stairs with my notebook and a cup of tea. I will go feed him soon. I am wondering, if he is doing well with the cage, if we couldn't also try feeding him while he is in there. That would be ideal. If he takes that, I will let him stay for another hour or so then release him. I am thrilled with the accomplishments thus far._

 _Day 40_

 _I did as described and while Sam seemed stiff and a little sore, he also did not suffer any sort of emotional long term stress and I take it as a very good sign that he was even able to eat from his dish in there. He didn't eat much at all but he did take some food and some water. I left him a long tie and allowed him his pillow as a reward. He definitely earned it._

 _We progressed quickly today. He went in and didn't panic when I closed the door, which I did straight off. I let him get used to it again for about twenty minutes, then placed the lock back and left him to it. I fed him once already and plan to let him take his dinner in the cage tonight. I have left the basement door open again, but am not so worried._

 _Day 42_

 _Sam slept in his cage last night. I am so proud of him. I think it's time to start on the fun part. We will get started tonight. I have a few things to take care of before we try, but I look forward to it very much._

 _Day 48_

 _Sam is everything I could have hoped for and more. He has proven himself both obedient and resilient. He takes everything I can give and never complains. I have altered his hypnotherapy to include some of my more interesting routines. It is a promising start._

 _Day 52_

 _Sam had another physical today. I was worried about how he might behave but he did well. The doctor had some interesting news to report. It has been logged in his medical file. I was quite astonished. I think this will make matters more interesting and the doctor has begun working on dosages to find an appropriate use for the information. I am interested to see where this take us._

 _Day 55_

 _Sam is reacting well to the serum. I never would have guessed something so simple would be so effective. I have also been enjoying some of our more private aspects of this particular relationships, but will save that for my own personal logs._

Dean flipped through the remaining pages. Most were short little entries that read along the lines of the last few. He saw a couple of longer ones but nothing that caught his eye.

He leaned back in his chair. He knew what came next. He would have to watch the tapes.

Finally, he gave in. "Cas," he called. His voice was low and rough. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Cas?"

Cas came in from the living room.

Dean was staring at the DVDs in front of him. Was he really going to do this? On the one hand, he had to know. On the other he felt like he was about to dive into his brother's very personal experiences. He worried what sort of effect this might have on Sam but decided that Sam knew he was going to find out most of it tonight anyway. If he had wanted to, he would have tried to stop Dean.

"Have you found a player for these things," Dean asked.

Cas seemed to study him for a moment. "There's one on the computer downstairs, although it is password protected. There is also one attached to the television in the living room. Would you like to use it?"

No. No, he very much would not. "Yeah. Let's do this. Have you watched them?"

"No, I did not. I felt I knew what had happened from the file and the pictures downstairs."

"There were pictures?"

Cas nodded. "In the desk."

Dean stopped. "We will need to get all of them. They might not be important, but we don't want the cops getting their hands on anything that might link this to Sam. I don't want him drug through any more than he has to be."

Dean and Cas went to the living room media cabinet. Dean turned the television on and with shaking fingers put the top disk in the player. He had mixed the order up if there had ever been one, and he didn't feel like digging through to start at the beginning. He would just roll with whatever was on this disc.

Dean sank down on the couch, feeling dirty already for sitting on some floral sofa to watch this. "Cas," Dean said. He didn't know if he should ask the angel to leave or beg him to stay.

Cas hesitated. "I have already seen what the majority of these tape will hold. I doubt it will make much difference now. I promise not to speak of it to Sam unless it becomes important to do so."

And that was that. Dean pressed play.

x

The shot was of the basement, Dean could tell that much, although it wasn't one of the side cameras that he had seen mounted near the ceiling. This one was about eye level and if he had to guess, was set up not far from where the desk sat. The frame was composed mostly of the blasted cage. It was empty for the moment, but Dean could hear an indistinct voice.

After a moment, it became more intelligible. It seemed as if the sound was attached to the cage rather than the camera. Amelia was entering the frame. She had a rope in her hand and it was attached to Sam's collar. Sam walked docile behind her, shoulders slumped.

Sam was naked from head to toe. It was obvious he knew the camera was there because he avoided looking at it, although it seemed to hold his attention to an extent. Dean wondered if Sam suffered the same consequences when he looked into the lens as when he looked Amelia in the eye.

Amelia led Sam to the cage.

"Alright, honey," she said. "You know the drill. In you get." Her voice sounded hard this time. It wasn't cruel, but it wasn't pleasant either.

Sam ducked his head and Dean recognized that look. It was the one he'd worn when he knew he was about to get a spanking from Dad when they were little. He knelt before the door and Amelia placed the lead between his teeth.

He crawled in. It was a tight fit.

He pushed his face against the side of the cage just under the middle bar.

Amelia snapped and pointed down. Sam's eyes went wide, but he obediently dropped his head so that his mouth was below the lowest bar, which had about an inch of clearance from the ground. Amelia reached through the bar and took the lead from Sam's mouth. She tugged it so that Sam's face was pulled up against the bars. Dean could see the metal pushing into the flesh on his face, although it was obviously more uncomfortable than painful.

"Do you know what you did, Sam?"

"Yes, Amelia."

"And," she asked. "Why are you being punished?"

Dean leaned forward curious despite himself. "I spoke back to you and questioned you."

"That's right. Do you understand why I am doing the things I am?"

"Because you care and you show that through your guidance and generosity."

"Good boy. Do you think you deserve to be punished?"

Sam's eyes closed and he made a sort of jerking motion into the bars that Dean though might have been a nod had his face not be smashed into them. "Yes, Amelia."

"Then what do you say?"

Dean could see that glint in Amelia's eyes. The one that said while she might love other parts of this scenario, but this right here was as rewarding for her as anything else she would do that night.

"Please," Sam said and Dean felt his heart sink. Sam sounded like he meant it. "Please, Amelia. Punish me. I want you to punish me for what I did. Please?"

"Good boy. How could I resist such a request? You did earn this Sam. I want you to remember that."

Dean watched uncertain as to what would happen next. Sam was already in the cage. In terms of filmable punishments, this one was rather mild, unless she just enjoyed watching Sam squirm.

Amelia secured the lead, not giving so much as millimeter of extra slack. Sam could tip his head down a bit, but that was about it. She walked to stand over the top of the cage. She rapped her knuckles against one of the bars.

"Hands," she barked. Sam dutifully brought his hands together behind his back and lifted them up. She reached in through a small gap in the top and caught them, raising them up higher against the natural motion of his shoulders. Dean winced. That would be painful. She locked each wrist into manacles that Dean hadn't noticed till now. They were thick, wide bands of metal, unlined. They would chafe and probably break through the skin if left for very long.

She paused and Dean wondered what she was waiting for. Apparently growing impatient, she swatted Sam on the ass. Sam let out a short grunt. "Thank you, Amelia. Please don't stop."

Amelia surveyed the scene before her, Sam bent over, barely contained in the cage. The side of his prison lifted like a cattle gate and Sam's feet and ass stuck just beyond the confines from the position she had him in. "Well, let's just see what we can do."

She walked over to the instrument wall and visually inspected each item. Finally, her hands landed on a whip and Dean braced himself. That was one thing he was familiar with, whippings. He'd felt his flesh nearly filleted off his body multiple times, each with barely a rest to catch his breath between.

Amelia came back to stand over Sam. She was an odd sight with her vet scrubs and sensible sneakers. Her hair was pulled back into a bun. He'd have thought her a normal woman. Hell, if he'd just met her in a bar, he might even have hit on her. But holding that whip, she exuded an air of danger.

She walked over and caressed Sam's butt with the end of the whip. "You're going to count."

That was all the warning Sam - or Dean - got. In an instant the crack of the whip filled the space and a nasty red welt crossed Sam's cheeks.

"One, thank you."

Dean felt his fists tightening so much his hands were aching, but he couldn't stop.

Every time the whip cracked, Dean jumped. Every time, Sam calmly called out a number and thanked the woman. When she got bored with his ass, she would flick the bottoms of his feet. Sam seemed particularly sensitive there and almost lost count more than once.

Dean held his breath, praying Sam wouldn't lose count. He didn't think he could watch that. But he soldiered through. When the whipping was done, Amelia finally said. "That's done with, pet. Only a little more."

"Thank you, Amelia. Please finish punishing me. I want to be obedient."

"And you will, pet. You will." Her tone was almost conciliatory. Dean wanted to punch her. It was lucky she was locked away in her bedroom at that moment.

She replaced the whip and pulled something out of a low drawer. Dean couldn't tell what it was, just that it was relatively small and she carried it easily. She worked behind Sam where he couldn't see what was happening. Dean could tell he was getting nervous. Dean was getting nervous.

She smacked him on the ass and he flinched, but didn't say anything this time. Dean watched as she reached around and placed something on Sam's privates, trailing a wire. Sam paled. Dean could feel the dread as he watched, even though he didn't quite understand what was going to happen.

"I'm going to set it to random, sweetie."

"Thank you, Amelia," Sam sounded choked now.

"What, you think that's all you deserve?"

"No. Please punish me as I should be. You know best."

Amelia smiled. "Of course." she attached another wire, this one between Sam's butt cheeks, and then a third one, this time reaching around again to the opposite side. "There we go."

She pulled one more thing from the front pocket of her scrubs and pushed a button. Sam jerked and panted, although he did manage to grit out, "Thank you."

"Okay, pet. Time to lock you in. Ass up, feet in the air."

Sam shifted, unable to get the position he needed easily without any room to move his head. He finally had raised up on his knees, feet pointing up and touching his ass, which had lifted to touch the top of the cage and had pulled inside the fall of the gate.

"Good boy," Amelia said as she let the gate slam home. She fit a small, sturdy padlock onto the gate so that, even if Sam did manage to get free, he wouldn't be able to get out.

Dean noticed him squirming already.

Amelie pulled the remote out and pushed the button. Sam squealed. There was no other word for it. His eyes rolled up and he went limp, pulling uncomfortably on his arms. It took a second for him to regain his composure. As he finally redistributed his weight, Amelia pushed the button again and Sam grunted, although apparently was not as alarmed by the pain this time. She pushed it one more time, making Sam go limp again.

Amelia smiled. She walked to the front of the cage. Her smile turned a little sad as she looked at Sam.

"This is your punishment. I will have the remote with me all night. I will push it whenever I think of it. The voltage setting is on random and I have it plugged in tonight. No need to worry about running out of battery. You will stay here until I release you and I can guarantee that won't be tonight."

Sam grunted, apparently giving up on speaking.

"Sweet dreams, Sam. I'll sleep well knowing you are learning an important lesson." With that she pick up the cloth and threw it over the cage, covering it completely. She pushed the button and Dean could hear Sam shuffling in the cage, even without being able to see him.

Amelia left, turning the light out after her.

There was a cut and a night vision camera cut in, Dean thought this was probably one of the corner cams. The angle was much higher. He fast-forwarded, unable to listen to the pained grunts that had begun to turn to whines. It didn't change. She never came down to take the cover off the cage. It was just hours of footage of Sam crying and grunting.

The time stamp read ten the next morning before she showed up to let him out. It had been around four the previous afternoon when she shut him in. Sam had dropped to his knees, crawled to her, kissed her feet and thanked her profusely for his punishment.

Dean finally felt something snap. He leaned forward, clutching his stomach. He grabbed up the trashcan beside the couch and heaved until he didn't have anything left.

Cas, beside him, looked horrified and was still staring at the screen, lost in some sort of shock.

Dean finally straightened up. "That's it. That bitch dies. I don't care what else she's done."

Dean jumped to his feet. It took one look at his brother, frozen in the frame as he prostrated himself before that woman to goad Dean forward. He was bounding up the stairs three at a time, somehow managing not to trip and kill himself.

"Dean!" He could hear Cas calling him. "Dean wait!"

Dean didn't have the patience for waiting. Not even for Cas. He let his stride eat up what little distance there was to the end of the hall to the little white door with its gold knob.

"Dean!

"Not now Cas!" Dean called back. "I'm a busy."

He threw open the door and stood there, heaving and staring at this miserable excuse for a human being. He could see red then black crowding around the edges of his vision.

Dean Winchester was pissed. Anyone with any kind of sense knew to stay out of his way. Apparently Amelia still had at least a tiny modicum of sense left because she shrank away from Dean as much as she could in the restraint of her chair. She went completely silent, trembling from head to toe. Her eyes were wide and he could see the whites, could see her dilated pupils as she tried to pull away from him.

Dean marched up to her and smacked her hard across the face.

"You bitch!" He screamed. "I ought to murder you right now. I ought to carve you up into little pieces, let you scream and scream until you can't anymore, let you beg for death then end you and feed you bit by bit to the fire let your skin char and crisp while everything that was you shrivels up from the heat. Because I bet you're just the type of monster to come back to hang around when no one wants you. When the only thing you can do is bring misery to every single person around you.

Dean smack her again. The loud thwack of skin against skin filled the room and he relished the sting in his hand. He relished the feeling of absolute control. She might have her mind games but Dean Winchester was a force to be reckoned with on any given day and she had made the number one mistake. She had touched Sammy. She had hurt Sammy. Dean Winchester was well and truly pissed and he was going to take it out in blood.

He straightened up, noticing that she had tears streaming down her face. He ripped the gag from her face. "Well go on bitch. Let me hear it."

He eyes grew even wider she looked panicked and glanced around the room as though it might hold the answer to her predicament.

"I want to hear you," Dean spat. "You made him say it so I want to hear it from you."

She just stared up at him and shook her head. He couldn't tell if she really didn't know what he wanted if or she refused to give it to him.

He drew his silver knife from his belt. "Do you know why you are being punished?"

Her eyes grew even wilder her. She looked over his shoulder, estimating her chances of survival if she could somehow make it to the door before he could catch her.

"No way, sweetheart. You ain't going anywhere. I want to hear you say it."

She sucked in a breath quick and harsh and jagged. "Y-yes."

She was whimpering. Sam hadn't whimpered once

"Come on. Can't take it like one of your pets? Can't even face your punishment? How pathetic are you?"

She pleaded with her eyes, apparently unable to say anything.

"So, let's hear it. Why are you being punished?"

"Because…" she whispered

Dean leaned in close. "Because why?"

"Because I hurt Sam."

Dean straightened up and smiled. He knew the shape of that smile on his own face. He was glad Sam wasn't there to see it. "That's right. You hurt Sam. My Sam. Not yours. You hurt him and now I'm going to hurt you."

Downstairs, Cas was staring up the stairs wondering what he should do. He had been so caught up in his internal debate he missed the opening of the front door. He jumped when a hand landed on his arm.

"He's upstairs, isn't he?" Sam asked

Cas looked up at Sam. He stared into Sam's eyes, into what he could read of his soul. He knew why Sam had come in. Knew that Sam had seen the image still on the screen of the television.

"Yes he is. "

"Okay. Don't do anything crazy," Sam said. His eyes never left the stairs. "If I freeze, you're going to have to be the one to stop him. Can you do that?"

Cas just stared at Sam.

"Cas I'm serious. I want you to promise me that if I don't bring him down, you'll come up and get us both."

Cas blinked. "I promise. Are you sure you should go up?"

"I'll be fine," he said as he moved to the foot of the stairs. "So long as Dean isn't too far gone. I knew it was a bad idea to let him come here. I just couldn't figure out a way to stop him."

"Dean is a grown man. I am sure he made his own decisions."

"Based on his need to protect me when I'm no longer in actual danger. Yeah. I know. Just give me five minutes."

"I don't…"

Sam shook his head. "I don't think it's going to be an issue, but I don't want to freeze and I don't want Dean to kill her. He shouldn't have any more human blood on his hands. "

"Sam," Cas said. Sam could feel that impenetrable stare on the back of his neck.

"Just do it."

Sam visibly steeled himself then trudged up the stair. He followed the sound of Dean's harsh voice coming down from Amelia's bedroom, the same room they had shared the first week he had come to stay with her.

He closed his eyes and stepped around the corner and into the room. When he opened them again he was staring face to face with his worst nightmare. The woman who had kept him locked up, had put him through Hell on earth, was tied to a chair.

Dean was standing over her. Blood was already running down her face and she stared at Sam, pleading with him. He didn't look at her. He looked at Dean. Sam could tell what he was going to do. He could read his intention in the set of his shoulders and the angle of the knife in his hands.

He knew exactly what was going to happen and he felt like he couldn't stop it.

Then he caught a glimpse of Dean's face. It was full of rage, but not just that. Devastation. Horror. It was lost and Sam just couldn't bring himself to let this go on no matter how cathartic it might end up being for Dean.

"Dean," he said.

Dean froze. Sam's voice had been quiet, but Dean hadn't realized he was in the room.

Dean didn't turn or put down his knife. He didn't even flinch. In an even, level voice he said, "Sam, go on back downstairs. I told you to wait in the car."

"Dean." Sam said again. "Dean, look at me."

Dean stood where he was for a long time.

It took ages before he finally turned, stepping back out of Amelia's range just in case she decided to try something. Sam couldn't quite bring himself to look Dean in the eye. Not yet. He knew he should. It was just one more sign that he was broken. But he couldn't.

He tried anyway.

He couldn't quite keep his eyes locked with Dean's but he knew Dean would understand the effort he was making. He knew Dean understood no matter how successful he was.

"Don't do this," Sam said. "She's not worth it."

"She hurt you, Sam." Dean's voice was still level, still calm. It was the eerie quite of still water. Sam shuddered.

"Yeah. She did. But she's not worth it."

"I can't-" Dean hesitated. "Sam, I can't even begin to describe what I just watched and it was only one tape. Only one night. She's a monster"

"I'm not arguing that. Really, I'm not. She is a monster. But she's human and she's by far not the scariest thing we've faced."

"She deserves a taste of her own medicine"

"So what? I mean, really what? You really think she's going to get a pass to heaven? You think she's head somewhere up there? Not that it turned out to be any better than here," Sam said, his voice strained and sad.

"You know exactly where she's headed. You know exactly how many people we've pissed off and which ones don't care how someone knew us, they just want their ounce of flesh. They'll tear her to shreds.

"No, Dean. Let her go. She'll go to prison. When they figure out what she did, they'll make sure she gets a taste of it. And I bet, if you ask real nice, Crowley might even do you a favor. You know how he likes mayhem. Just put the knife down and let's go. Cas is going to come up here if I'm not back with you in a few minutes. You really think you can contain him and his smiting?"

"But Sam. I failed you."

"You didn't fail me. You haven't ever failed me."

"I let her get to you."

"Dean, you were in purgatory. What exactly were you going to do from another dimension?" Sam crossed his arms and scowled at Dean, exasperated.

"I –"

"Oh don't give me that crap about how you shouldn't have left. You weren't given a whole lot of choice in the matter." Sam sagged against the door frame. "Let's just go. I want to put this place behind us. If I never see Kermit, Texas again, it'll be too soon."

Dean stared between his prey and his brother. Sam would come first. Always and forever, he would come first. Dean could see the tired way he leaned into the door frame, could see the way his head drooped and his body sort of sagged around the edges.

Dean grunted. He wiped his knife off against the collar of Amelia's shirt. She whimpered again, but didn't dare move given how close the knife was to her throat.

"Dean…" Sam said. Dean shrugged and tucked his knife back into his belt.

He turned and nodded at Sam. Hesitated a moment then turned back to Amelia. "If I ever hear your name again, ever, I'll come back and finish this. Understand?"

Amelia nodded frantically, sobbing now. Though whether from relief or terror they couldn't tell.

"Even if you get out of prison, you better lay low and pray you go unnoticed for the rest of your miserable life."

With that Dean turned at went. Sam lingered for another moment. "I hate you. You know it, I know it. This wasn't for you. We'll be watching. If the police don't haul you out of here, we'll know. Next time I don't think I'll be able to stop him."

Sam turned and followed his brother down the stairs.

At the bottom Dean watched Sam descending. He could tell just how much Sam needed some real rest.

Sam pushed past him into the living room and collapsed into an overstuffed armchair. His shaggy head fell back and his long limbs draped carelessly over all the edges. He just sat sprawled that way for a long minute while Dean and Cas both stared at him. Finally he said, "I know you want to collect everything of me from here. Get to it. I want to watch her hauled out and then I want to sleep."

Dean and Cas both jumped into action. It took another hour before Dean was mostly certain they had everything. When they had gathered up all the papers, photos, and videos they could find, Dean went to stand in the doorway near Sam's perch.

"I think we got everything on paper. Who knows what's stored on that computer but hopefully it's-"

"Nothing. She does her business on the computer. She keeps it clean, just in case."

"I think we got all of it, then."

Sam sat up. He was debating with himself about something, Dean could tell. Finally he spoke. "I need to go down there. "

"What?" Dean snapped to attention. "Why? There's nothing down there."

Sam stood. "Yes, there is."

"What?"

Sam just shook his head and walked to the top of the stairs. Dean could see him starting to tremble.

"Hey, I don't think that's such a good idea. You don't have anything to prove."

"No, it's not about that. She took something and I never got it back. I need to know for sure if she still has it."

"What."

"Just, I don't think I can do this on my own."

Dean put his hand on Sam's shoulder. "I'm right here."

Sam nodded. He took first one step, then another down the stairs. He was shaking so bad Dean had to hold onto him. "Sam, look man. Just let me go down there."

"No." Sam shook his head and pushed forward.

When they got to the bottom, Sam's eyes stayed glued to the floor. He shook off Dean's hand. "Wait here. Please?"

Dean hesitated. "Fine. But I'm right here."

Sam nodded and walked as quickly as he could over to the desk. He was studiously not looking at anything on the top. Instead he pulled open the center drawer. He seemed mildly surprised that it slid open, but just set to rummaging through the drawer, lifting a false bottom Dean had missed in his search.

Dean knew the moment he found what he was looking for. His eyes lit up and he grinned, though it was short lived.

He tucked whatever it was in his pocket. Dean swore he saw the glint of gold, but didn't dare hope that it might be what he thought it was. Sam shoved the drawer closed with a snap.

By the time he made it back to Dean, eyes still on the floor, he was trembling so bad Dean was worried he might collapse.

"Let's go." Sam's voice was strained.

"Sam?"

"Please," His voice cracked. "I need-" He was gulping in quick lungfuls of air and his hold on Dean's arm had tightened painfully. "I can't… I need to get out. Please?"

"Okay, come on." Dean forcefully steered him up the stairs, through the living room and out the front door. The sky was starting to lighten with the first rays of dawn.

Sam sank to the porch and sucked in large gasping breathes.

"Slow down Sam. You're going to make yourself sick. Deep breaths. Copy me."

Sam had clamped his eyes shut. He flung out a hand blindly and Dean laid it against his chest so Sam could feel his calm, steady breathing.

"Just breathe. You're safe. You're outside. Amelia is going to jail. All that's left is to call the cops. Breathe."

Slowly, Sam started to calm. His breathing evened out. His trembling eased. They sat there as the sky turned grey, then pink, then blue. As the sun peaked over the tops of the trees, Cas came out to join them.

"The police have been called. They should arrive soon," Cas said.

Dean nodded at him and Sam relaxed back against the stair behind him. Cas sank down onto the porch next to them. "We should go."

"In a minute," Dean said.

The three men sat there on the steps soaking in the warmth of the sun. It wasn't exactly a new day. Each of them was scarred, still bruised and hurting. But there was sunlight and warmth and family. There was a long road and a car that smelled like home waiting for them.


End file.
